


A Coffee Filter Crown

by butcherbaker17maker



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:23:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 77,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7376095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butcherbaker17maker/pseuds/butcherbaker17maker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jihoon is a dedicated barista with exquisite skills. Seungcheol just had coffee poured down his shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was nothing in the world he loved more. No job that was better suited to him. He buttoned up the bright white shirt with pride and flung on the dark red apron, tying it at the back.

The strong, earthy smell was wafting in from the front of the shop: it was such a rich scent that Jihoon always thought it reminded him of the woods after a strong rain. Others, it reminded of cream, long afternoons, or golden wisps of sunlight in the air. Everybody that worked here did it because they had a heart-felt passion for their job. Jihoon rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and appeared in the shop.

“You’re late,” Soonyoung told him.

“By thirty-two seconds. Don’t be stingy.” Jihoon picked up Soonyoung’s clipboard on the back counter. “Did we get the shipment of Brazillian beans we ordered?”

“Yeah, I put it in the stock room.”

“Nice.” Jihoon went past the shelves – a natural, trained reflex to being there in the early morning – counting stock. “Are we almost out of vanilla essence?”

“I already sent Lizzy out to get some more. Can you watch this? I need to finish something in the back.”

“Sure.” Jihoon took over his boss’ place at the coffee grinder, allowing himself to enjoy the bitter smells that were wafting through the air. While he stood, he checked the other apparatus they used most days and began to dust the coffee cups.

Jihoon made sure to open the front door at seven A.M. sharp, as he always did, and was soon welcoming in his Monday morning regulars. He knew most of the orders by heart – the pretty lady with bright orange hair and wide hips liked strong iced coffee with plenty of vanilla essence and cream to go, and the elderly gentleman always had two black coffees and a strawberry shortbread tart, and sat down with them at the fourth table down against the far window.

Gepetto was a small tortoiseshell cat with no particular owner in the neighbourhood, but Soonyoung had developed a soft spot for the small cat at the end of the terrace, so he had a cat flap built in. It meant that the doors between the barista area and the café area were sturdily built, but it also meant that Gepetto has a place to stay at night, and had become the mascot of the Crowned Coffee Café. Right now he was looming up towards the elderly gentleman, knowing the man wasn’t stingy on giving the kitten scraps.

It was a normal Monday morning – customers came in, had their order taken, Jihoon danced over the work floor arranging their particular coffee blends and usually they were away just as suddenly as they had arrived.

The small bell of the front door jingled happily when an alpha male walked in.

He was an alpha beyond doubt: that much Jihoon could ascertain. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with the fearlessness and genuine confidence alphas sported. He wore a crisp white shirt and dark trousers under a tan trench coat. The smile he gave Jihoon was warm and happy. “Hello.”

“Good morning.” Jihoon eyed the clock, just to make sure. Ten-thirty AM. Perfect. “Welcome to the Crowned Coffee Café. What can I do for you?”

“Hum…  I’d like a large slow-drip medium Java with cream, please.”

“Sure. To go, or will you be staying in?”

“To go, please.”

Jihoon continued to jot down the details of the order. “I’m afraid we only slow-drip by hand here, so it will take a few minutes. Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.”  He had his elbows on the countertop, leaning in at the barista. “I like watching my coffee being made by a real artisan.”

Jihoon ignored the dominant stance and flirtatious look in his customer’s eyes: it wasn’t the first time an alpha had come in looking for a quick omega snack in the barista, and he had become impervious to the look. He simply went about his duties, filling the beautiful silver pot with boiled water, arranging the filter, ground coffee beans and the Styrofoam cup correctly, before picking up the pot and letting the hot water trickle from the spout slowly.

The man smiled, watching the deliberate motions. “Wow. You do this beautifully.”

Jihoon almost smiled. _Almost_. He was a sucker for compliments about his trade. “Thank you. I trained for a long time to do this right.”

“The movements are very elegant. It’s like an art form.”

“It is a bit like an art form. You have to know… the roast of every bean, the ground it becomes, the bitterness and sweetness of every grain… the heat of the water, the application of various sugars, the different creams, essences, and what effect they have… what kind of filter will bring out the richness of the coffee?” Jihoon’s eyes squinted very slightly as he watched the water trickle to the filter. “What happens to the coffee if the water is too hot? What if the brew is too strong?”

“…that’s a lot to remember for a single cup of coffee,” the man noted.

“…yeah, I guess, but it’s something I learned with eagerness and now apply every day with diligence. It makes me happy. Some people were made to do things – like, to go into politics, become generals, businessmen, teachers… I was made to brew coffee.” Eventually he pulled the spout of the pot back up and set the cup aside. “Whipped cream, foamed or liquid?”

“Whipped, please.” The man straightened a little. “It sounds like a magnificent thing, brewing coffee.”

“You’ll taste the difference.” Now Jihoon could afford to smile, filling a piping bag with morning-fresh whipped cream. “This, and a machine-made espresso? There’s no comparison. That’ll be 4500 won please.”

Seungcheol put down a bill and Jihoon collected it for change before lifting the filter off the Styrofoam and piping whipped cream onto the top before enclosing the whole thing with a cap. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” The alpha smiled with an appreciative warmth. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

“Want a tip?” Jihoon pointed at a basket of small assorted cookies, individually wrapped. “They’re on the house with every coffee. Try the round ginger one. It should go well with that brew.”

The man picked up the small package and grinned. “Hey, thanks… Woozi.” He squinted at the name tag for a moment. “…thanks for the coffee!”

“Come again next time!”

“Sorry!” Her little squeal was accompanied by the pitter-patter of her high heels and the ringing of the doorbell, and frustrated look of closed eyes. “I’m sorry I’m so late, the essences were all-”

And before Lizzy could have stopped herself she collided.

Jihoon’s precisely brewed coffee had just been splattered all over a beautiful, crisp white shirt.


	2. A Dark Prince

Jihoon ripped the box open, face bright red. Lizzy was getting the telling-off of a lifetime somewhere in the back room and the poor man simply placed his Styrofoam cup on the countertop again.

“I really am sorry,” Jihoon tried again.

“It’s alright, it’s alright. No use in crying over spilled coffee, right? Although it _is_ a pity I didn’t get to drink it. I’m just glad you have extra shirts.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to spill coffee down themselves.” Jihoon flicked through the packaged shirts in the box until he found the XXL one, pulling it out. “I’m afraid it’s a simple long-sleeved t-shirt.”

“Better than walking around with coffee dripping down me,” he smiled kindly.

“If you’d like, I can prepare a new coffee while you change?”

“That would be nice, thanks.”

“Bathrooms are just around the corner.”

“Thank you.”

Jihoon got to brewing his coffee again while the handsome alpha changed in the bathroom: when he returned, Jihoon was just pressing the lid down.

When he looked up, he couldn’t help the blush returning to his face.

The shirt was a good size in the length – a perfect fit – but it was a little small in circumference, easily showing off how broad the man was. The thick cotton cloth allowed for only the least definition of the man’s pecs and well-developed stomach. The most alpha-like of qualities.

“Thanks, that’s great. What was it? Four th-”

“Oh, it’s on the house!” Jihoon shook his head quickly. “After all, it was our fault you didn’t get the drink. Please leave the shirt here! We’ll have it dry-cleaned for you by tomorrow morning.”

The alpha paused a moment, then broke out into a wide grin. “Thanks, there. Woozi. I’ll leave this with you then! See you tomorrow, cutie.” At that, his own face froze, and he simply stalked out of the shop as soon as possible, leaving the coffee-stained shirt behind on the countertop.

It took Jihoon a moment to pull the shirt off the countertop, disappearing to the back room.

“Boss.”  He interrupted the infuriated man and the crying girl. “That’s enough. She didn’t do it on purpose.”

Soonyoung’s fury seemed to reach a new level of red on his face until he managed to sigh out loud, patting Lizzy on the shoulder. “…yeah. Sorry, Lizzy. I know you didn’t mean to. Just look out next time, alright?”

Lizzy sniffled, wiping her tears. “Yes sir.”

“Lizzy, when you can breathe properly, do me a favour and run this shirt down to the dry-cleaner’s?”

“Actually, Woozi, do you mind doing that yourself?” Soonyoung readjusted his tie. “I have the new intern coming in and I don’t want him to be intimidated by your rigid artisanal drive.” The man smirked.

“Shut up, oh, God.” Jihoon grinned. “Sure, I’ll run down now. That alright?”

“Great.”

Jihoon gently folded up the shirt and donned his woolly coat before braving the fierce autumn weather: it wasn’t raining, no more than a drizzle really, but the wind was something fierce and it was going cold. The poor omega hurried down the street and across the road to the local dry-cleaners, shaking off droplets.

“The full monty,” he requested, when asked. “I mean cleaned, dried, starched, absolutely flawless. By tomorrow morning.”

 

“…what’s your favourite coffee?”

Jihoon thought about it. “I guess I have a different favourite every day.”

The young man grinned. “What’s today’s favourite coffee?”

“Simple espresso.” Jihoon grinned back. “Maybe with a lick of rum.”

“Okay, so. Blue Mountain, then… Brazillian, then Bourbon, Colombian, Ethiopian, Java, Mocha and Robusta. Right?”

“Yeah, they’re alphabetized. A lot of customers who come in aren’t too interested in the differences, so for light coffees use Mocha, and for the others try Brazil or Java. Those are the only three we really keep roasted all the time – the others you’ll have to roast from scratch. You’ll have to decide for yourself which roast will serve the taste of the coffee best, depending on how you brew it.”

“Right.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

He smiled, and it was as if an actual angel was standing there. “I’ll be more than fine. Thanks.”

Jihoon took a deep breath before taking off his apron. “Well, Ren, you’re all set. Congratulations! You’re now an intern barista at the triple C.”

Ren smiled a little more. He was, without a doubt, one of the prettiest men Jihoon had ever seen – and Jihoon had Jeonghan for an older brother. He knew pretty. But Ren had a slightly softer look over his face, and he painted his nails and obviously took little notice of gendered fashion. At the very least, Jihoon had to allow him his bravery. But then, the vibe of an alpha was coming off him so strongly that it was doubtful anybody would mistake him for anything else.

“Time to close up then.”

“Sure!” Ren took off his apron and hopped along, following the omega closely by his side: once they were outside, Ren didn’t really budge. “So, you’re working tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have a special customer coming in to pick up something he left behind.”

“Cool… so, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Shit, my bus!” Jihoon instantly broke out into a dash to make it to the bus stop in time: he clambered in with a cold sweat, and made a point of it not to look back at the indecently good-looking new intern who was still standing on the sidewalk.

Jihoon _hated_ it when alphas hit on him. It was just a huge pain – the dating, the being treated like lesser, the breaking up. It was just one big mess, and Jihoon had learned his lesson years ago.

 

“Woozi, my love, my sweet, my one and only. The apple of my eye. My pearl. My everything. Have I told you how much I love you today?”

“What do you want, Lizzy?” The young man didn’t even bother looking up from the papers he was checking off.

“I got my necklace knotted in my hair again.”

Jihoon swivelled his chair sixty degrees, eyes still focused on the paper: when Lizzy perched down on his lap, his fingers simply swept up until they took hold of the dainty golden chain. Then he managed to re-direct his attention to the problem in his fingers. “I don’t understand how you keep doing this. Your hair is never out of a pony tail.”

“I resent that,” she pouted. “I’m just a bit clumsy.”

“Say that again. Here.” Jihoon coolly undid the clasp and handed the chain back to his colleague. “Next time, take it off before you come to work.”

“Thank you!” She jumped up, swivelled and pecked Woozi on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

“I’m coming out.” Jihoon put down his pen, giving the papers one more look over before washing his hands and turning into the store. “How’s it going, boss?”

Soonyoung was staring intensely at some latte foam art he was creating. “It’s time for you to take your fifteen-minute break, Woozi.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

“Also, you’ve been requested.”

“ _I’ve been requested?_ ” he repeated cautiously, untying his apron at the back. “What am I, a host?”

Soonyoung chuckled, grabbing a toothpick. “I didn’t say you have to go. Just that a customer would like to share a coffee with you. Table four.”

Jihoon prepared himself a quick espresso he had little intention of drinking before turning to table four.

It was up against the window, one of the lounger seats: sitting there, stirring his coffee intently, sat the alpha from yesterday, thick brows furrowed a little.

“Oh! Let me just-”

“I already gave it to him. It was the shirt you hung up in the back, right? I made sure to return it the moment he arrived,” Soonyoung intervened. “Go drink your coffee.”

“…yes, sir.” Jihoon quickly put his cup on a saucer and made his way over to the alpha’s table, gently setting the coffee down. “…hey.”

The alpha looked up and then straightened suddenly, surprise drawing across his face. “Oh, hi!” He pulled his spoon from his cup and smiled. “You’re here.”

“I work here.” Jihoon sat. “Soonyoung said you asked for me…?”

“Yeah. I was hoping you would drink coffee with me.”

“…okay.” Jihoon turned to his coffee, pulling the cup up to his lips to sip from.

A few moments passed before the alpha chuckled. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“About what?”

“About anything, really.” He smiled. “I’d like to hear more about coffee. You really like it, don’t you?”

“Sure. What’s not to like?” Woozi put down his cup and nodded towards the alpha’s cup. “What did you order?”

“Something called a Blue Mountain…?”

“Oh, nice choice. With cream, I see. That was unnecessary.”

“I’m getting that idea, yes.” He smiled, taking a sip of the coffee. “It’s not very bitter.”

“It’s not meant to be. Blue Mountain is a mild coffee.”

“Wish I’d known that before I ordered it.”

“Next time, ask your barista.”

The alpha chuckled, holding his cup between his hands. “You’re really proud of your professionalism, huh?”

“Isn’t everybody who works at something they enjoy?” Woozi pulled up one eyebrow. “What do you do for a living, if it doesn’t fill you with passion?”

The alpha’s eyes lightened for a moment before he frowned a moment. “…I’ll tell you next time.”

“Next time?”

“The next time I come and order your coffee. I want it made by you, next time, though.”

“Everybody here is just as qualified to brew you a cup of coffee any single way you like it,” Jihoon muttered.

“Not like you.” The alpha sat back with a knowing smile. “The coffee you made me yesterday was delicious. Thank you.”

“That’s my job.”

“Indeed so. But I think it was something about the person who made my coffee, more than the skill and expertise that went into it.”

“I take offense at that.”

“Sorry.” The alpha never stopped smiling. “You’re a lot of fun to tease.”

Jihoon folded his arms, staring at the man in silence.

“For such a cute omega, you sure are feisty.”

“I don’t like alphas,” the barista answered coldly.

“Oh? Why is that?” The alpha leaned forward, stirring his coffee again, resting his head on his hand. “Do you feel intimidated?”

“No, I feel like I want to stuff something into your face to wipe that arrogant grin off of it.”

The alpha broke out into loud laughter, letting the corners of his eyes crinkle: Woozi simply sat there impassively, unmoving, face as hard as stone.

“You really are something else,” he chuckled. “But I’m sorry. I’ll try to grin a little less arrogantly from now on.”

“I’m sure.”

The alpha smiled, pulling out his wallet and pulling out some bills, laying them out on the table. “That’s six for the coffee, four for the service, and my card for the dark-haired omega I’ll come to see again.”

The boy had to stop himself from saying _don’t bother_. Being grumpy was bad for business, he knew, but then he wasn’t here to be everybody’s little favourite. Lizzy had that corner down. He was here to make coffee. “Bye, then.”

“Goodbye, handsome.” The alpha winked once, got up, and exited the building without turning back. When he was out of sight, Jihoon picked up the white card.

_Choi Seungcheol  
Business Manager_

He pushed his espresso away, making an unimpressed face at the card.

“…who, Woozi?” The man perked up when he heard his name. “He’s over there.”

He turned to whomever was asking for him. There, in the middle of the coffee shop, stood Wonwoo.

Jihoon grappled clumsily, pulling himself out of his seat. He hadn’t seen Wonwoo in almost a year already. “Wonwoo!” He smiled happily, but then broke it as soon as he saw the dark look on Wonwoo’s face. “…what is it?”

“…it’s your father.”

“…dad?”

“He’s not very well. I think you should come home, before…” What Wonwoo _didn’t_ say hung thick in the air.  “I think you should come home.”

Jihoon’s bones were locked into place, frozen for a moment. “…dad?”

Wonwoo waited a moment, a cold look on his face.

“Dad?!” Jihoon then sprang up, leaving both coffee cups and the alpha’s money on the table: he simply rushed to the back room to grab his backpack. “Soonyoung, I have to go!”

“Go, go, if it’s family. We’ll manage. Text me later.”

“I will!” Later that evening, Jihoon would sent out a thank-you to his lucky stars for having such an amazing boss as Soonyoung. For now, the young man simply rushed out the door, allowing Wonwoo to follow him to the dark, window-tinted black car in the street. He waited until Wonwoo was in the driver’s seat to speak. “You wanna tell me what’s up?”

Wonwoo stared at the road, pulling out. “Your father is very ill.”

“How bad?”

“Very bad.”

“…well?!”

“The physicians don’t expect him to last the week.”

“…my mother?”

“She was in shock when I left. It all came on very suddenly. Last night he had a headache… this morning he could barely get out of bed to relieve himself.”

Jihoon became very quiet at that, curling up in his seat for a while as Wonwoo raced through the streets to get him home. “Wonwoo?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yes?”

“…it will be weird. Being back home.”

“Yes. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. How’s… everybody?”

Wonwoo smiled. “Everybody has been doing well. Not today, of course, but the last year has been good.” He paused a moment. “Yoonjo was very upset you couldn’t make it over for her birthday.”

“I know. I sent her an e-mail. You should have seen the verbal abuse I endured under her.” The boy smiled a little nostalgically. “The others?”

“Shannon’s decided she wants to be a doctor. A foot doctor.” Wonwoo harrumphed once in vague protest.

“…and?”

Wonwoo sighed. “Dino is the same as always. Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Before you can see your parents…”

“Aw, no, Wonwoo.”

“It’s my duty to make sure your identity remains a casual secret,” Wonwoo said, as if he were reciting it. “And that includes making sure nobody sees you outside of your regular looks.” He parked in the darkness of the underground parking lot. “Your clothes, gel, and a haircomb are in the back seat. You have ten minutes.” With that, the tall man simply stepped out of the car and waited.

The man who stepped out of the black car next was not Lee Woozi, the small barista who worked at the triple C and advised common folk about coffee and desserts.

The man who stepped out of the black car was Lee Jihoon, eighth son to their majesties the King and Queen. He was Lee Jihoon, the Dark Prince.

“Alright.” He tugged a little on his blue-and-golden uniform collar. “Take me to His Majesty, the King.”


	3. The Royal Bloodline

Though it had been ten months since he had last been back, Jihoon could never forget the faint smell of the corridors, the _precise_ cream-yellow hue of the walls. Automatically, his hand stretched out to brush over the crack in the wallpaper the twins had created when Jeonghan threw his older brother over his head. Without thinking, his eyes wandered up to the tips of the ionic pillars, to check if the bag of chocolates he’d stashed between the carvings was still there. A faint little green tassel hung there, just as it had for years.

Memories flooded him, walking down the halls. Amy, who arranged the flowers all over the palace, must have heard he would be arriving: fresh peonies had been placed in some of the priceless vases down the corridors. He stopped in the middle, staring at one bouquet before leaning in closer to smell the fresh scent of the flower.

“Sir. Amy will murder me if you take it.”

“…I’ll take it later.” Jihoon smiled softly to himself before dropping the sensitive look, instead burrowing down the Persian carpet. “I have no time for flowers today.”

There was always something steely that came over Jihoon when he was home, Wonwoo noticed: it wasn’t surprising, not with all the suffering the Prince had endured in his royal state, but it was disheartening to see him glow and beam in one small coffee shop, and become a cold, insensitive, almost brutish figure in the palace.

“Who will be here?” he asked curtly, getting close.

“Nana and Yoonjo are both on their way. Shannon is being tutored. Dino is resting.”

With that information and that information alone, Jihoon threw open the double doors to his parents’ bedroom, ignoring all his siblings as he stalked past and knelt by the bedside, taking his father’s hand in his.

For a moment there was ice in the air as the family dealt with the sudden burst of the Dark Prince.

Then Aron gently put a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder. “Hey. He’s asleep for now. It’s okay.”

It took Jihoon a moment before he gently let his father’s hand rest on the bedsheets again, standing up.

Aron put his arm around his little brother’s shoulders. “…hey, kid. Missed you.”

“…yeah.”

“Shit reason to have to come back for.”

“Yeah.”

“…love you.”

“Yeah.”

Jihoon went around the room, giving his brothers tight hugs: Joshua’s was gentle, almost a non-existent hug, and his twin brother’s was light but caring. Minhyun hugged a little limply, but Jun spared his kid brother no expense: the man squeezed his brother until the boy was going red.

“Alright, Jun. That’s enough.”

“Aw. I wanted to squeeze him till his head popped off.” Jun let the small boy down and tousled his hair. “…thanks for coming back, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jihoon turned to his rescuer. “Thanks, uncle Heechul.”

“My pleasure, boy.” The thin man in the doorway leaned a little on his cane to take the weight off his right foot. “Going?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And we all know where to.” He smiled, moving out of the way. “Do us all a favour and go visit your little sister, first!”

“Like I’d forget the baby.” Jihoon nodded. “…I’ll be back in one hour.”

Wonwoo followed him – as was his job – all the way to the tutoring rooms, where a little petulant twelve-year-old girl was far too distracted to complete all her math assignments. When she looked up, a spark returned to her eyes. “Hoonie!”

Jihoon gave the girl a bright smile and leaned down, opening his arms wide for the cuddling embrace he knew he’d receive. “Hello, darling.” He picked his little sister up and gave her tutor a nod. “How’s my little girl?”

Shannon pressed her face up against her brother’s shoulder. “…I’m sad.”

“…yeah. I know. We’re all a little sad, I think.” He kissed the girl’s hair. “You bleached, again.”

“Do you like it?” She squirmed to stand on the ground and played with the roots of her blonde hair. “You have to say you do. Even if you don’t. Otherwise it’s rude.”

Jihoon chuckled. “I like it, don’t worry. I like my baby sister is the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world.”

“You better, ‘cause I think my brother doesn’t come home often enough.”

Jihoon almost smiled at his baby sister’s straight-forward comments. “I know, sweety. I’m sorry.”

A ping rang through the room, and the twelve-year-old rushed back to the table to retrieve her phone, texting on her way back.

“Mom let you have a _smartphone_? You’re like.. five years old.”

“I’m twelve years, seven months and eighteen days,” she answered instantly, not taking her eyes off the phone. “Besides. It’s a girl thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sure.” Jihoon stood there a moment. “Who _are_ you texting?”

“...Hika.”

“I’m sorry?” Jihoon froze, thunder accumulating on his forehead. “I must have heard that wrong. I thought you said Hika. As in Hikaru. As in, _Sato_ Hikaru. But of course. My mistake. I’m sorry, I heard you wrong. Who did you say you were texting?”

“Sato Hikaru.”

Jihoon jumped a little and swiped for the phone: obviously he had missed elemental points of his sister’s growth from a child into a young tween, for she had absolutely mastered the ability to duck, dive and dance out of the way of his grabbing hands and remain texting all the while.

“You’ll never catch me,” she said with ease. “Aron, Jeonghan and Joshua once ganged up on me. They tried for an entire hour before giving up.”

“Does mother know you’re texting him?”

“Yeah.”

“What does she say?”

“She doesn’t say anything.”

“Now _that_ , young lady, I _won’t_ believe.” Jihoon had to sit in a chair for a moment. “When did you start texting?”

“We’re not having this conversation,” she answered with a mutter, shoving the phone in her jeans pocket.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve already had it with mother, father, Aron, Nana, Joshua, Jeonghan, Yoon-”

“Everybody?”

“Everybody. It’s okay for you not to lecture me on texting the man I’m going to marry, you know. Like… I’m going to _marry_ him. We’re going to have _se-_ ”

“Okay, well.” Jihoon slapped his knees and stood up. “It’s good to see you have something to keep your mind distracted. I’m going to-”

“Go see Dino,” she finished, fishing her phone back out. “I know.”

Jihoon patted the girl’s hair and sighed when he finally exited the room. He turned to his bodyguard in a vague gesture of hopelessness. “When did she get so… so…”

“Tweenie?” Wonwoo shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. One day she was playing make-up games on that thing and the next she was experimenting with lipsticks that have weird names and her phone was glued to her hand. She’s always talking to her _girlfriends_. Or something.”

Jihoon shuddered. “I didn’t want to think of this for another three years, at the very least.”

“Well, you have one more person to see.” Wonwoo resisted the urge to pat Jihoon down the hall. “Come on.”

 

The boy had had his room re-decorated: Jihoon found the colour scheme strange until he saw the enormous mural of a bouquet of peony roses on the wall. The room was done up in brilliant white, pale yellow and hints of a pastel pink to match it.

Every child belonging to the royal family inherited a by-name from the public, at one moment or another. They were titles that reflected the royal family’s public image, and once a name had been proclaimed, it was very hard to rub out.

In their family there was Aron, the Great – he was a perfectly balanced man, with political and military prowess on top of endless charm and great intelligence. As the crown prince, the forty-one-year-old had been living up to expectations his whole life. He was the most natural, most perfect candidate to be his father’s successor.

His little sister – set apart by a year and three months – was Nana. Nana had been named by the public rather late in life, as she hadn’t any particular traits that stood out. When the time came for the country to enter into amicable relations with China, it was to be done by marriage. Nana was sixteen at the time, and the only one eligible, as Aron had already become engaged. She had made very clear in her own cool tone that she did not wish to marry China’s crown prince; she had no desire to queen that country; no desire to leave her people behind; but she would do as she was bid, for the greater good of a country that had witnessed too much tension with its neighbour. Nana was the Dutiful princess. Her marriage broke the nation’s heart.

Joshua and Jeonghan were born twins, with Joshua being released a full five minutes before his little brother. Joshua was a politician at heart – he enjoyed history and human studies far more than any Royal child ever had in the past. Verbal sparring suited him: war did not, and that was very simple. The outcome of this was when he brokered another treaty with China when things were getting rocky, he was proclaimed Joshua the Wise.

His twin was a different matter. Jeonghan was constantly the main agent of scandal and riot: he was proclaimed the Seductful Prince for good reason. First, he was obliteratingly beautiful; second, he took care of his clothes and looks with utmost precision; third, everybody seemed to have a crush on him. Literally everybody.

Joshua’s wisdom, however, was not so much true skill as a spot of pure luck. Nana and her husband Zihueng had arrived to discuss new terms; with them arrived Zihueng’s little brother, Han. Han was a soldier, a very handsome one at that, absolutely dashing in uniform. It just so happened that Princess Yoonjo, the twins’ next sibling, had indulged in too many romantic novels not to be attracted. Her title – Yoonjo the Fair – had been given many years before-hand when she was a little girl. She was without a doubt a very beautiful young lady.

When Joshua found out Han and Yoonjo had been sneaking off to libraries and drawing rooms with each other, brokering a new marriage was _simple_. The girl should have been titled _Yoonjo the impatient_ – for she demanded her marriage to take place before her sixteenth birthday.

Yoonjo and Han were very happy together.

In the public eye, Minhyun was considered the beginning of a downfall. The five royal children hitherto had all been delightful and lovely in their own ways, with little fault to be found. Minhyun was not cut from the same cloth.

The boy had been born with Angelman’s Syndrome – a fact not known to the public as it was to the boy’s immediate family. Luckily for Minhyun, the syndrome was not severe, and he was quite happy: but he came across as rather simple, always smiling and clapping his hands. He had been named the Young Prince, for his inability to develop what they called an ‘adult conscience.’

Jun was considered Jun the Bloodthirsty. He was of a military mind, and had already been the main cause of some serious victories. Jun never backed down from a fight, and was always vocal about how he enjoyed the torture of the battlefield. Secretly, the nation was very happy he was fifth in line: another blow for the royal family.

Then came Jihoon.

Jihoon was not suited to palace life. He did not enjoy being in the public eye; he did not enjoy being inspected by not only his family but an entire nation; he did not enjoy the prolonged company of many people at any one time. Especially at public functions, he wore a drawn, severe, cold look. He had never been caught by man or camera smiling, and once he’d had permission to defect to a life or normalcy, he was casted as a ‘closeted prince; one with so severe an attitude that he may bring on a year’s winter with a single look.’

Everybody had decided that normalcy was best for Jihoon. So, without the watchful eye of the royal robes coordinator, he was allowed to wash out his gel and wear his hair in a fringe, he needn’t use the dark eyeliner that was telling of the royal family. When he found coffee, he had smiled, and his transformation was complete.

But after these dark proclamations by the press, all was halted for a while until nine years later, Princess Shannon was born – a beautifully healthy little girl whose arranged marriage to Japan was welcome news. Shannon was the most charming little girl anybody had ever found: she was ecstatic with whatever gift you brought her, be it her own car or a daisy you picked from the garden. She was Shannon, the Delighted.

Jihoon kept walking to the figure on the balcony. Because that figure was Dino the Gentle.

He was ten years old, and the last royal child to be born of his mother before she could have no more. And as the woman had said, ten kids were _plenty_.

“Dino.”

The boy turned, his beagle puppy in his arms. His face lighted with happiness. “Jihoon!”

“Slowly!” Jihoon barked before the boy could move. “Don’t run.”

Dino pouted, set his puppy down and walked until he could gently embrace Jihoon. “Welcome home, brother.”

Dino had haemophilia, and was not expected to reach the age of twenty.


	4. Is God Cute?

It was no secret amongst their family that, to the Dark Prince, Dino was his entire world. The prince would protect and care for his little brother like no other.

Dino’s condition was obvious very soon after he was born: when he was four, he scraped his knee on an errant nail on the floor. He’d been hospitalized for six days. It had been the worst six days of Jihoon’s life – who had been responsible for the boy when he got hurt – and since then, Jihoon invested all he could in his brother.

Haemophilia – the lack of a certain item in the blood that caused blood to clot – was hereditary. Their mother’s great-great-uncle had been the last one to show signs of the disease. When she heard the news, she had cried for days.

After an hour of catching up, with the soft beagle at Dino’s heels, they returned to their family.

That night, eight hours later, the King took his last breath.

Aron was sitting on the bed, staring. Jihoon sat in the chair next to both of them. Everybody else had fallen asleep in various positions around the room.

“It’s okay.” Jihoon was never very good at showing emotion, or sympathy. “…let him go. He’s going to be okay now.”

Aron’s tears dripped off his face coldly. “I don’t want to be king,” he whispered. “I’m not ready. I’m not ready for him to go and leave me all of this. I don’t want to do this, Jihoon.”

Jihoon leaned in to put a hand on his brother’s knee, before moving to grasp the man’s hand. “I don’t think anybody is ever ready to be King,” he whispered. “And I certainly don’t think just anybody is cut out for it. But of everybody who _is_ cut out for it… I’m glad it’s you.”

Aron looked up.

“We all are.”

“Jihoonie… thank you.” Aron fell forward, hugging his little brother tightly. “…I love you so much, you know that?”

“Yeah. You too.” Jihoon patted him on the back. “…I miss him already, too.”

“Yeah.” Aron broke out in a half-sob. “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

It was strange to be back in his own room, surrounded by princely things, like the ridiculously uncomfortable bed a mile wide, old paintings and priceless carpets. Not to mention a wardrobe full of what the palace stylist called _appropriate attire_ , which was far from appropriate in Jihoon’s eyes. At least Amy had had the decency to fill his room with peonies.

He stood out on the balcony to text Soonyoung his thanks, and then simply spent time looking out at the sky. It was a clear night – no clouds, no rain. Simply an eternal black that raged across the horizon, peppered with silver stars, winking at nothing.

“Hey.”

“…hey.” Jihoon straightened up a little. “…when’d you get back?”

“Just now. A little while ago.” She put her arm around him. “Yoonjo’s here too. I can’t believe he was gone so quickly.”

“…yeah. It was… strange.” Jihoon put an arm around his eldest sister too. “But there’s nothing to be done now.”

“You’re up late.”

“Yeah. I need… coffee.”

“You need to _sleep_ ,” she smiled gently.

Jihoon considered that for a moment, moving to lean his forearms on the balcony railing again. “How are you coping?”

“…people die,” Nana answered. “It’s a thing.”

“How are you in general, anyway?”

Nana sighed a little, crossing her arms and leaning her back against the same railing. “Can you keep a secret?” The boy’s expression was enough. “Right. Duh. Course. Well, thanks for asking. You’re the first one, so far. Me… well, let’s just say morning sickness is a bitch.”

Jihoon’s eyebrows raised slightly, staring at his sister’s stomach in wonder. “Wow. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you happy?”

“You know what?” The woman smiled. “…for the first time in a while, I really think I am. Despite right now, of course.”

“Of course.” Jihoon cleared his throat a moment. “How long?”

“Couple of weeks, I think. Not much more than a month.” She nudged him. “How’s coffee?”

“It’s good.”

“Anything new?”

The Dark Prince shrugged. “A new intern. He’s pretty. Like… really pretty. Enough to tempt me. But he’s one of those alphas that just… creeps me out. You know?” Jihoon shuddered to prove his point.

Nana laughed, tossing her long, luxurious brown hair over her shoulder. “You really have this alpha issue, don’t you?” She stretched a little with a small smile. “I’m so glad all women are betas. It gives us this supremely neutral stance.”

“Speaking of all women, please have a talk with your baby sister.”

Nana got a glint in her eye. “You really hate her chatting with Sato Hikaru _that_ much?”

“You _knew_?!”

“Who do you think was the first contact in her phone? Please, she tells me everything.” Nana grinned at the idea. “You do realize they’re betrothed to be married? They might as well decide whether they like each other or not now. Trust me. I wish I’d had the opportunity.”

The prince couldn’t really speak to that, so he just sighed.

“I brought some special Blue Mountain with me. Will you make me some coffee?”

Jihoon’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yes! Thanks, Nana.”

The two sat inside Jihoon’s gilded room while the young man took extreme care and precision in heating the water on the burner and slow-drip filtering it. Nana was the only one that really cared for Jihoon’s interest in the beverage, and though coffee wasn’t her favourite, she had come to admire the innate sensitivity her omega brother had for creating a single cup.

They had coffee together in a peaceful silence.

“So, no alpha boyfriend yet?”

“You really enjoy picking on the only omega in the family, huh?”

Nana grinned, putting on a deeper voice. “Oh, the horror that has struck the family! An omega prince! Whatever will befall our father’s line?!”

“Make fun all you want,” the prince pouted. “Being the only omega – the _weakling_ – really sucks, you know.”

Nana put down her cup. “I know. I’m only teasing. None of us think about you that way. I guess that’s part of the reason being a normal citizen is kind of nice, huh?”

“It’s great,” he sighed. “There’s no pressure. I’m just another cute omega.”

“With great coffee.”

“Thanks.”

 

The autopsy done and dusted, and a report to be issued soon, the King was buried in a traditional ceremony. Jihoon, in full uniform, lived up to his name as the Dark Prince: he hailed tabloids as the only child of His Majesty the King who didn’t cry or even change expression throughout the day. And within another week he was back at the counter, beaming happily, sprinkling cocoa shavings over lattes again.

“So.” Soonyoung smiled coyly. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“What do you want?”

“Who was the man who came to pick you up?”

“Wonwoo. He’s my official bodyguard.” Only Soonyoung was privy to Jihoon’s true identity, being his employer and all.

“…is he single?”

“Soonyoung!”

“He’s really hot! He’s an omega, right?”

Jihoon pursed his lips at the thought of being a matchmaker. “…I’ll drop him a note.”

“Thank you! You’re the best. But make it casual, right? Like-”

Ren popped his head in the doorway. “Boss? He’s back again today.”

Soonyoung sighed wearily, getting up off his chair. “Alright. Here we go again.”

“Who’s back again? A customer been giving you trouble?”

“Not exactly.”

In the front of the shop stood an alpha, wearing jeans and a comfortable dark blue sweater over his white shirt.

“Yes, he’s back,” Soonyoung proclaimed, walking up to the desk. He turned to Jihoon. “He’s been coming in every day to see if you’ve come back or not.”

“Seungcheol.” Jihoon was surprised to find he wasn’t as annoyed as before. Maybe it was being back at the shop, after having such a God-awful couple of weeks of mourning, but seeing the annoying alpha male was almost a relief that things were back to normal.

“Woozi!” He smiled brightly. “I’ve missed your coffee.”

Woozi tied his apron behind his back. “Well, go on then. What’s your poison today?”

He hummed, thinking about it. “Why don’t I leave it up to my barista?”

“Sure. Something strong, or something weak?”

“Something rich and velvety,” he answered with a wink. “I’ll defer to your talents, sir.”

The word _defer_ almost made the young man grin: he hummed as he set about his work, slow-dripping a creamy bourbon coffee for his customer. He took care of his work diligently, ignoring how the alpha stared, until he finally put the cup on the saucer.

“Sit with me.”

“I’m working.”

“Please sit with me?” The man was able to put on huge, dark puppy-dog eyes, eyebrows folding upwards. “I’d like a little company.”

“I told you I’m-”

“Woozi! Soonyoung says you can take your break now.” Ren smiled, sidling up behind the young man and squeezing his waist. “Don’t forget about me while you’re away, hmm?”

Jihoon ignored him: if he had to choose between dealing with Ren’s ridiculous flirtation and Seungcheol’s admiration, he would choose Seungcheol every time. So he followed the alpha back to his table.

“You’re not having coffee?”

“Don’t feel like it today.” The omega shrugged, sliding into his seat.

“Isn’t that something.” He picked up his cup. “I’ll enjoy this.”

Jihoon waited carefully as his customer sipped the coffee. Little wafts of the scent kept flying over, surrounding him, enveloping him in the richness of the brew. Eventually, the alpha put the cup down.

“It’s perfect.”

“Thank you.”

Seungcheol smiled, stirring the coffee a little. “So, where have you been? You were gone a long time.”

Jihoon looked down. “…my father passed away, so I was out of town for a while, sorting out his estate and stuff.”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Seungcheol gave him a sympathetic look. “I had no idea.”

Jihoon shrugged.

“Do you have any other family?”

“Yeah, a few siblings. We’ll be alright.”

Seungcheol cleared his throat after a moment of awkward silence. “So… last time, I promised to tell you what I do for a living.”

“Yes. Business manager.” Woozi looked up. “I don’t understand why you were so embarrassed.”

“It’s the business I manage that’s embarrassing.” A little speck of pink tinged his cheeks, and suddenly the alpha couldn’t look him in the eye. “…it’s a florist’s.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I know, it’s too feminine for an alpha to-”

“Do you sell peonies?”

“…what?”

“Do you sell peonies?”

“Yeah, sure, of course we do.”

“…you run a good florist’s.”

The alpha began to smile. “You like them?”

“Like what?”

“Peonies.”

“What about them?”

“You like them!”

“What?”

“Peonies!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Woozi looked away, eyes darting around the coffee shop. “You’re a strange person.”

Seungcheol laughed warmly, taking another sip of his coffee. “God, you’re cute.”

“Is God cute? I didn’t know that.”

The alpha remained unperturbed, thinking about it. “Hey, have you seen the trailer for the new Tarzan movie?”

“You _realize_ I’ve been out of town?”

A moment of silence passed between them as a couple of teenager’s giggles erupted in the store’s doorway. Ever since Ren had arrived, more and more girls were visiting the small coffee shop to get a glimpse of his miraculous good looks.

“Right. Anyway, it’s a brilliant movie. Therefore… how much did you say the coffee was?”

“Four-five.”

Seungcheol began to count out notes on the table. “Four-five for the coffee, two for the service, and this is for you.” He got up before Jihoon had a chance to look. “Cutie.”

When Jihoon realized a movie ticket had been thrown on the pile, he looked up in protest, but the alpha had already disappeared.


	5. Sweet Dreams

**Joshua:** I think you should do it.

 **Jeonghan:** I think you should do it too. And take pictures. And make out. And who knows what else? ;)

 **Jihoon:** You two are so helpful, oh my God.

 **Jun:** Don’t see why a roll in the haystack is anything bad.  
**Jun:** Or in this case, a roll in the movie theatre.

 **Jihoon:** Okay, rule number one guys, I don’t fuck on a first date.

 **Jeonghan:** You’re no fun, kid. How old are you again? Six?

 **Aron:** Are you trying to imply you were rolling in movie theatres when you were seven, little brother?

 **Jeonghan:** No sir. :|

 **Aron:** That’s what I thought.

 **Joshua:** I know exactly when he had his first roll, _and_ who he had it with.

 **Jeonghan:** Don’t snitch!

 **Joshua:** Ah, the power of friendly brotherly blackmail.

 **Jeonghan:** I hate you.

 **Joshua:** You’d marry me.

 **Jeonghan:** You know it.

 **Jun:** Guys, this is not helping Jihoon with his love-life fiasco.

 **Aron:** God, whatever possessed me to create this group chat?

 **Joshua:** Don’t back down from your own ideas.

 **Jihoon:** GUYS. Also, Jun, thanks, but I don’t have a love-life and this isn’t a fiasco?! I’m just asking you guys you’re opinion on whether I should go.

 **Aron:** Well, nobody’s stopping you. After all, he’s an alpha, you’re an omega. It’s a perfect match.

 **Jihoon:** You know, for a ~supportive, loving family~ you guys sure bring it up a lot.

 **Joshua:** That you’re an omega?

 **Jeonghan:** Well you are, aren’t you?

 **Jun:** Oh, God, get over it, you’re 23 already. You’re an omega. Weak and little. It’s okay. There are a lot of omegas out there. Learn to live with it.

 **Aron:** Jun!

 **Jun:** Sorry, Hoonie.

 **Jihoon:** Anyway…

 **Joshua:** I think it couldn’t hurt. You’re free to marry whomever you please. Well, you obviously wouldn’t marry a woman, so it’s either an Alpha or another Omega for you. Do you like him?

 **Jihoon:** I don’t hate him… I barely know him.

 **Joshua:** Not hating him is always a good start.

 **Jun:** Hey Hoonie?

 **Jihoon:** Yes?

 **Jun:** When are you going to lose that virginity of yours?

 **Jeonghan:** !!!!!!!!!!

 **Aron:** Jun!! Shame on you!

 **Jun:** It’s just a question, yeesh.

 **Jihoon:** My virginity ain’t got nothing to do with you, ya nasty!

 **Jeonghan:** OH MY GOD HE’S RIGHT?  
**Jeonghan:** You’ve never had sex before?!

 **Joshua:** Don’t be insensitive, dickhead.

 **Dino:** I just woke up. What’s happening?

 **Aron:** Nothing, baby. Don’t scroll up. Don’t re-read.

 **Dino:** Are we talking about hyung’s virginity?

 **Jihoon:** I will physically come back to the palace to smack you all, I swear to God.

 **Dino:** It’s okay, nothing to be ashamed about.

 **Aron:** You’re ten.

 **Dino:** So?!

 **Jihoon:** Can we PLEASE get back to the topic at hand?! Do I go out on the date or not?

 **Aron:** Yes!

 **Jeonghan:** Get yourself laid, boy!

 **Joshua:** I think it’ll be nice.

 **Jun:** Go ahead.

 **Dino:** Who are you going out with?

 

The last time Jihoon had been on a date – well, it was a while ago. And in this case a while ago meant never, really. He wasn’t really sure what was appropriate to wear when the incredibly good-looking alpha from the coffee shop asked you out on a movie date.

He ended up in his good blue jeans, a white button shirt with a grey sweater and his coat. And a dark red scarf. Because it was cold outside and runny noses were not cute.

The movie was an eight-thirty show, but because of the scarf conundrum (red or green?) Jihoon arrived at the venue exactly then. Seungcheol was nowhere to be found, so Jihoon simply walked on ahead after showing his ticket and made his way to his prescribed seat.

Seungcheol was in the next chair, a huge bucket of popcorn on his lap. He grinned when the omega sat with him. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey?” Jihoon whispered back in the darkness.

Seungcheol leaned over so his whisper wouldn’t disturb anybody else. “Thanks for coming.” There was a genuine smile in his voice.

Jihoon wasn’t sure how to respond. “…thanks for asking?”

Seungcheol snickered a little and pushed over the bucket of popcorn. “Salty?”

“Fuck yes. Thanks.”

They watched the new Tarzan movie in complete silence: neither muttered a single world throughout, only giving each other vague motions to share the popcorn. When it was over, Seungcheol took off his 3D glasses and smirked at the omega. “You’re really good-looking, even in the darkness. What a pain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means it’s harder to watch the screen than you.” He stood up and dusted himself off. “We’d better go before the next movie starts.”

“…right.” It took Jihoon a moment to do the same and walk out.

They both blinked at the bright lights of the theatre, and then blinked again when they got out on the dark street.

“Dinner?” Seungcheol shook his head. “No wait, it’s late. Drinks, then?”

“You want me liquored up?” Jihoon smirked cheekily.

Seungcheol barked a laugh, walking by the omega’s side. “I think you’d be very amusing drunk. But if you like, coffee is good too.”

“Do you know any other good coffee shops?”

“Well, none of them have _your_ exquisite talents to offer,” the alpha grinned back, “but there are a few adequate places I know of.”

The first coffee shop they went to was a little bistro that had very average coffee; after that they decided to go on a mini-coffee tour, trying every coffee shop that stayed open late into the night.

Seungcheol turned out to be a great conversational partner: he was funny, clever, and a great listener as well. He listened patiently when Jihoon talked about coffee – the flavours, the heat, the notes – and talked animatedly about flowers.

“…we’re a pair of saps,” Jihoon muttered over the third cup of coffee.

“We are?” Seungcheol had to grin – it was hard not to do so, when seated in front of the charismatic omega. “How so?”

“I love coffee, you love flowers?”

“Well, flowers are beautiful.” Seungcheol pulled one of the purple violets out of the vase on their table, holding it out for inspection. “Look at it. It’s perfect. Every fleck of purple, white, yellow, black – every petal is positioned perfectly. It grew knowing what it needed from the earth, from the sun. Isn’t it great? Biology doesn’t make mistakes.”

A shadow passed over Jihoon’s eyes a moment. “…sometimes it does.”

“Hm?”

The omega shook his head, as if the sight of his older brother’s dopey smile or Dino’s swollen joints could be shaken from his mind’s eye. “Here.” He pointed to a petal. “This one is discoloured. See? The white draws on too far.”

Seungcheol eyed the petal and smiled. “Yeah, I guess it is. But then again, imperfections are everywhere. No human is perfect. Why should we expect flowers to be? Or coffee?”

“ _My_ coffee is _always_ perfect.”

“It’s not perfect when it’s down my shirt.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Jihoon pouted, finishing his cup.

“Suppose not. Next coffee shop?”

“It’s late.” Jihoon glared at his watch. “I’m not sure any shops will still be open." Jihoon eyed Seungcheol pulling out his wallet. "Oh, no, I’ve got this one.” The omega slapped down some bills and the two walked out. “…well, I guess… if you _want_ … we could have coffee at Triple C.”

“Your place?” Seungcheol held the door open for his date, thinking about it. “Do you own it?”

“No, Soonyoung does, but my apartment’s just above the shop so I have the key. Soonyoung lets me stay up to all hours trying out new beverages. He actually lets me get away with murder.” Jihoon thought about it and nodded. “Yeah. We’ll go to Triple C.”

Seungcheol’s eyes seemed to lighten a little. “I’d like that.”

 

Jihoon unlocked the front door, but kept the _closed_ sign up, switching the lights on with ease. He ducked into the back to put on his apron – ever the professional – and began to boil the water.

Seungcheol grinned, having hung up his coat, leaning across the counter. “You look good in the apron. Like your eyes are different.”

Jihoon smiled softly, washing his hands. “I’m happy, here.” He looked up at the lights dangling low from the ceiling, the happy ambience of the café, the dark, homesy woodwork that it was decorated with. “There’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be than right here. It’s _home_ , you know? Every coffee bean, every teacup…” Woozi opened the cupboard and gently pulled out a plain blue coffee cup and saucer, placing it on the counter. “This is it. The first cup I ever served coffee in.”

Seungcheol smiled. “It’s a nice color. The color of-”

“The sky?” Jihoon grinned. “So big and open and _fresh_.”

“How was it? Your first cup of coffee?”

“It tasted like shit.”

They both looked each other in the eye once and burst out into laughter together, chuckling at the thought.

“Well, you’ve certainly improved.”

“Thank you.” Jihoon raised his hands with a happy sigh. “What’s your pleasure?”

Seungcheol hummed, staring up at the chalkboard menu above the counter. “I don’t know. Do you have anything you want to experiment with?”

Jihoon’s eyes lit up instantly and his cheeks blushed a little. “You’ll be my guinea pig?”

Seungcheol burst out into laughter again, nodding. “Sure, sure.”

“Yes! I’ve been looking forward to creating new Bourbon mixes. Thank you!” With a soft, contented smile, the omega went to work over a filter.

“You really like slow-drip, huh?”

“I think it makes the coffee more personal. Makes the taste richer. It’s all about the steadiness of the hand.” Jihoon’s face was at a smooth kind of peace as he made grounds from freshly roasted beans. “About getting every detail _just_ right. I was a complete hack when I started. I used to just dump the water into the filter like a flood.”

Seungcheol chuckled to himself.

Jihoon shook his head, gently filling up the paper filter. “God, I was something terrible, but Soonyoung trained me well. I watched videos on youtube, read about masters in the art… and I practiced, and practiced, and practiced.”

Seungcheol’s smile now matched the tranquillity on Woozi’s. “You know, I don’t understand a lot about coffee, or how you can be so interested in it, but… the way you talk is really nice. Kind of like… your whole soul is poured into it? It makes you glow from the inside out.”

Woozi’s cheeks went pink. “You think?”

“Yeah. It’s lovely to see. There aren’t many people who work hard like that. I guess it must be an artist thing.”

“You think I’m an artist?” Now he really _was_ glowing with pride.

“Sure.”

Jihoon prepared his coffee with care and precision before serving it. “Let me know.”

Seungcheol wiggled his eyebrows a little, raising the cup to his lips. He had a few sips before putting it down. “Wow. That’s… really light? But it’s got a bite to it.”

“You like it?”

“…yeah. It’s very rich, but not… heavy? I don’t know how to describe it.” He took another sip, puzzled, but happy. “Like I thought… your coffee really is the best.”

The went through three more concoctions in the middle of the night – neither of them really noticed time ticking by, just that the world outside was dark and dim and the coffee shop was alight with Jihoon’s glow and bound by the irresistible smell of coffee.

“So tell me,” Seungcheol chuckled over a medium-roast Java with caramel. “What’s your favourite coffee?”

Jihoon was now leaning forward as well, sitting on a barstool on his side of the counter, hands under his head. “Hmmm… it changes every day.”

“Ooooh, what a liar.”

“What?”

“You’re a liar!” The two laughed at each other before Seungcheol continued. “I know a lie when I smell one!”

“I can’t tell you what my favorite is.” Woozi blushed a little. “…but I’ll tell you today’s favourite is a Latte Macchiato with chocolate shavings.”

“White and bubbly like you. How sweet.”

“Shut up!”

They ended up laughing again, both leaning towards each other; when the giggles had died down, Jihoon was entranced by the florist’s dark, happy eyes. And Seungcheol was equally taken in.

After a moment of staring at each other, Jihoon cleared his throat awkwardly, leaning back again, moving to wash out another coffee cup.

“It’s pretty late,” Seungcheol noted, glancing at his watch.

“Yeah.”

“I should go.”

“Early start in the morning?”

“You know it.”

Jihoon walked with the handsome alpha to the door, intent on locking it after him: with the door open and the cool autumn air sweeping in, Seungcheol turned again. “Woozi?”

“…yes?”

“…tonight was amazing.” The soft look on the alpha’s face seemed to be pure and genuine – just like everything else about him. “Thank you.”

Woozi couldn’t look away. “…I had a good time, too. Thanks for asking me.”

Seungcheol leaned down a little, blinking down at the floor before pulling his face close.

Something inside Jihoon’s chest _burst_ loose – it began hammering away at his ribs, almost painfully. Something rushed through his veins, making every hair stand up on edge.

Seungcheol moved in, further and further, slowly, until his face was right in front of Woozi’s. “…I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispered. First he was looking at the omega’s lips, but then glanced up hesitantly at his eyes.

“…okay,” was all he could sigh back.

For a man who had never been kissed, the experience was ethereal. At first it was soft – Jihoon’s eyelids had slipped closed automatically – so soft against his lips. Softer than pressing your hand or arm against your face: it was something sweet and gentle, and _warm_. It prodded, pressure heaving and then lightening, once, then twice. It was a little breath taking.

And then Seungcheol moved back a little, to gauge how he had been received.

And then he had his arms around Jihoon’s waist, caging him in a hot, safe embrace: his lips were soft and gentle but passionate, pressing against the omega’s with genuine delight and sweetness, holding the barista to his chest tightly.

The passionate kisses soon ended, even though Jihoon’s mind was dizzy and reeling from the tingly feeling that ran up and down his arms; Seungcheol kissed him one more time, very sweetly, before pulling away and opening his eyes again.

“Goodnight, Woozi,” he whispered, staring at the barista. “…sweet dreams.”

“…g-goodnight,” Jihoon managed to cram out, barely audible. It was as if he had no control over his own mouth anymore. “…sleep tight.”

Seungcheol’s arms slowly retracted, and he paid the barista one last chaste kiss to the forehead before he turned around and left, allowing the door to swing shut.

It took Jihoon a few seconds after the bang of the door to fall forward and lock it, pressing his forehead to the door. “Wow,” he exhaled to himself. “… _wow_.”


	6. Pizza Date

“Uh… café latte.”

“Sure.”

“Full roast. The works. I need caffeine.”

“Yeah.” Ren fumbled about a little before ducking down to where Woozi was fixing the plumbing under the sink. “Woozi, which bean do I use?”

“Brazilian,” the barista answered automatically. “Hey, do me a favor? Switch on the tap?”

Ren switched it on and switched it off immediately: Woozi pulled himself out from under the sink, reaching for a tea-towel to wipe the water off his face. “Fucking hate it when the sink drain does this. I’m gonna need some filler. Is Lizzy in?”

“She went out with Soonyoung.”

“Okay.” Woozi pulled away the tea-towel and instantly went pink. “Oh, God.”

Seungcheol stood there, hair mussed awkwardly with a bit of stubble coming through. He looked dead-tired, but he straightened when he saw the barista.

A moment of silence passed.

“…hey.”

“Hey,” Woozi answered, throwing the towel in the back room.

Seungcheol managed a smile. “Sorry, I look like crap.”

“I don’t mind. I didn’t sleep much, either.” He smiled, hands folding over Ren’s. “It’s okay, Ren. I’ll take it from here.”

Ren looked at the barista once, then up and Seungcheol before curling his arms around Jihoon’s waist. “Okay baby,” he grinned, pecking the omega on the cheek. “If you say so.”

The two of them stared as Ren moved along into the back room: when Jihoon looked back, Seungcheol was frowning. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were-”

“I’m _not_.” Woozi’s face was dark. “The little shit keeps flirting with me every time another alpha walks into the room. Or he tries to flirt with the alpha. Don’t pay him any mind.”

Seungcheol’s frown never left his face. “Do you like it?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then should tell him to bugger off.”

“I can’t do that.”

“As a business manager, it is my professional opinion that such matters-”

“Frothed or steamed?”

“…steamed.” Seungcheol sighed. “You won’t let me help you?”

“Don’t worry about it. Ren’s harmless. To go?”

“Please.”

Once the money was in the till, Seungcheol leaned in naturally to plant a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Text me.”

“I don’t have your number?”

Woozi grinned. “Don’t you?”

There, on the back of the coffee cup, was a string of digits. Seungcheol smiled as he exited the coffee shop.

 

“So…”

“So?”

“You haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed _what_?”

“…Hyung’s been a little… distracted?”

“Nope.”

“And he gets coffee a lot.”

“Can’t blame him.”

“Humming a lot recently, too.”

Minghao threw down his gloves and sighed. “You want to make a point here, mister?”

Vernon blushed a bit. “He didn’t shave.”

“Point, still, you, not, making!”

“He got laid!”

“Who got laid?”

Both men straightened up instantly at the new voice: Vernon went bright red whereas Minghao simply got busy with tying bouquets.

“Uh… my teacher at school.”

Seungcheol made a motion with one eyebrow, slapping his little brother over the back of the head as he walked past. “You’re a shit liar, Vernon. You wanna gossip about me, don’t do it in my own florists’, please.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And for your information, I don’t fuck on a first date.”

“So there was a date?!”

Both Vernon and Minghao stopped working to stare at their employer.

Seungcheol just kept walking, ears burning red. “Yup.”

Vernon switched off the hose to trail after his big brother. “When?”

“Last night.”

“With who?”

“A barista.”

“Was she cute?”

“ _He_ was nice, yes.”

“An alpha, or an omega?” Minghao’s face popped up just above Vernon’s, both peering into Seungcheol’s office.

“Omega.” Seungcheol put on his reading glasses and glared over the rims at his employees. “Any other questions?”

“About a hundred,” Vernon grinned.

“Fine.” The manager got up again and stood at the counter, helping Minghao with the bouquets. “You guys ask, I’ll answer. You’re lucky I’m so attached to you two. Keep working.”

“What’s his name?”

“Woozi.”

“Woozi? That’s a weird name.”

“What’s he look like?” Minghao intervened before the brothers could slaughter each other.

Seungcheol thought about it, repositioning a tulip. “He’s… small, with ash-blond hair. He’s got small, round eyes… and a nice smile.”

“Where does he work?”

Seungcheol was concentrating on not blushing. It wasn’t working. “At the Crowned Coffee Café in the next street down.”

“How old is he?”

“…I forgot to ask.” Seungcheol hummed a bit.

Minghao raised an eyebrow. “Wait. That short little guy from Triple C? Oh, man. I’d get his age if I were you. Cause to me he looks like he should be in high school.”

The manager paled a little. “…seriously?”

“He’s like, fifteen.”

“Ew, gross!” Vernon groaned from the far side of the shop.

Seungcheol spent a few moments in silence. “…nah, I’m sure he’s older than that. But… I’ll ask him. Any other questions for you two nosy brats?”

“Yeah, where’d you take him?” Minghao pulled tape off the reel to finish a bouquet happily.

“We went out for a movie, then we had coffee.”

Vernon finished his watering and walked over, drying his hands with a towel. “Yeah? What time did you get home?”

“…almost 3-ish.”

Both men stopped to stare at their manager.

“What?! We had _a lot_ of coffee.”

Vernon grinned, a rascal look coming over his face. “You totally got laid!”

“Screw you, twerp. Come here!” Seungcheol _almost_ chased his little brother around the room, but thought the better of it – he simply returned to finish his coffee. “Whatever you two say, it’s none of your business anyway.”

“No, I’m happy for you,” Minghao said, eyeing another bouquet. “You deserve to have some nice evenings out. You’ve been working too hard on your proposal for the Great Gardens competition.”

Vernon looked up a moment. “You’re really doing that?”

“Yeah.” Seungcheol eyed the calendar on the wall. “Just another week before the deadline.”

“Yeah.” Vernon thought about it, inspecting a random pink rose. “…I’m sure you’ll do well, hyung. Five people get to work together on the project, right? You have a really good chance, so don’t worry.”

“Worrying won’t get you anywhere,” Minghao chipped in.

“…yeah, you guys are right.”

“You can do it!” Minghao rubbed his boss’ shoulders a moment. “Buck up!”

The manager grinned and nodded. “Thanks, Hao. If you guys need me, I’ll be in the back.”

“Sure.”

 

 **Seungcheol:** Hey. The coffee was delicious, thank you.

 **Jihoon:** Hey! I’m glad you liked it hehe

 **Seungcheol:** Listen, I forgot to ask you something…

 **Jihoon:** Yeah?

 **Seungcheol:** How old are you?

 **Jihoon:** I’m 23. Why? I know I look younger.

 **Seungcheol:** Oh, thank God. Somebody in my shop said you were a high-schooler. I was seriously worried.

 **Jihoon:** I’d be, too. I’m laughing. Don’t worry.

 **Seungcheol:** Sorry. I’m embarrassed now.

 **Jihoon:** You should be!

 **Seungcheol:** I’ll buy dinner to make it up to you?

Jihoon thought about it, looking down at his ratty clothes. They were _just_ so warm and comfy.

 **Seungcheol:** A new pizza place opened up a block away from Triple C just a few months ago.

 **Jihoon:** Be there in an hour?

 **Seungcheol:** You got it, handsome ; )

 **Jihoon:** You’re a shameless flirt, you know that?

 **Seungcheol:** It’s okay. Got you to go out with me, didn’t I?

 **Jihoon:** ………………………………..I’m not talking to you anymore

 **Seungcheol:**  Don’t be a spoil sport! Heh. See you later!

 

It only took Jihoon six minutes’ walk to get to the pizzeria, but in those six minutes, the heavens had decided that the poor barista was cursed. He arrived dripping wet, shaking droplets off the tips of his hair.

“Hey.” A warm body pressed into his from the back, hands on his arms guiding him towards an empty table. “Nice timing.”

“Hey.” Jihoon smiled automatically. “Are you wet, too?”

“I own an _umbrella_.”

“Oooh, show-off.” The barista sat in his seat and grinned as his date sat in the seat opposite him. “Well then, Mr. Fancy, congratulations on staying dry.”

“Thank you.” Seungcheol chuckled, pulling the menu from the table. “You look good though, in the rain, so it’s not so bad.”

“I’ll remember that when I’m dying of a cold.”

“If you’re _dying_ of a cold, I solemnly swear to come nurse you back to health.”

Woozi grinned at that, eyeing the menu in his date’s hands tentatively. “What’s your favorite?”

“Hm?”

“Your favorite pizza. What is it?”

“Anything with _meat_ on it. The more meat, the better.” He turned the card over, distracted. “You?”

 “…seafood. I like seafood on mine.”

 

Over pizza, they discussed music, and coffee, and flowers – Seungcheol explained he was entering the competition for the Great Gardens.

Woozi rose a single eyebrow. “For the Southern Palace, you mean?”

“Yeah. The one in Busan.”

“Who picks the winners?”

“…well, that’s up to the Seductful Prince.” Seungcheol leaned back from his empty plate, wiping his hands on a napkin. “He chooses the 5 ideas he likes best, and when it’s all ready he’ll open the ceremony for the public to come see it.”

Woozi smiled softly at the idea. “So, what’s your idea?”

“Oh no.” Seungcheol grinned. “Can’t tell you that. It’s a secret. Everything is to be hush-hush until the great reveal next year.”

“Aw, c’mon.”

“Nope. Can’t say a word.”

“You’re so mean.” Woozi finished his coke and sighed. “Fine then, don’t tell me. I won’t ask you about it ever again.”

Seungcheol laughed. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

Woozi glared out the window, where water was pouring down the panes. “Out in that?”

“I’ll keep you under my um-be-rella, ella, ella?” Seungcheol tried with a grin.

“Eh, eh, eh, under my umbereleaa,” Jihoon answered with a chuckle, putting his coat back on. “Okay. But I’m holding you to your promise. If I get a cold-”

“I’ll make you all the chicken soup in the world.” Seungcheol opened his umbrella in the doorway and stepped out into the downpour. “There’s something I want you to see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to bookmark/kudos/comment if you like this fanfic!


	7. All Dead

The two young men walked out into the rain, shielded by a bright red umbrella: Seungcheol led, but kept one hand down in case he needed to keep the barista beside him under protection from the rain. Jihoon’s fingers ducked out from under the red umbrella to let the drops of water glide over his fingertips.

“I love the rain,” he whispered, a little melancholic. “I love being outside when it rains.”

“Yeah? How so?”

The man smiled. “My mother never let us out if it was raining. I always had to watch it hit the windows from outside. When I left home… I got to dance in the rain as much as I liked. It has such a nice feeling, you know? It’s so cold… so refreshing. And simple. Not complicated or stuffy. Just water falling from the sky. It has a feeling of freedom to it.” And with that, Woozi twirled out of the umbrella’s reach, letting himself get doused ever so briefly before returning to Seungcheol’s side, a grin plastered on his face.

“I see what you mean,” Seungcheol chuckled. “…you _look_ free, too. But now, if you get a cold, it’s not my fault anymore.”

“Fine.” Jihoon nudged him with a grin. “Where are we going anyway?”

They turned a corner and Seungcheol reached an arm out, motioning at the white gates.

“The _park_? You took me to the _park_?”

Seungcheol laughed. “Alright, there’s something _in_ the park. Okay?”

“Fine. If I step in dog poop-”

“I get it, I get it.” Seungcheol laughed as the rain began to lighten up a little: he was able to put the umbrella down half-way until he came up to what was commonly known as the Rose Maze. “Here. You know this?”

“Sure.” Jihoon’s fingers rubbed a green leaf. “It’s the Rose Maze. The authorities never commissioned anybody to plant flowers here, and they were going to rip them down, but then such beautiful roses began to bloom that they decided otherwise.”

Seungcheol smirked. “…that was me.”

“You?”

“When I was first starting out with my own florist, I had bought rose bulbs at a killer cheap price. When they arrived, they were all rotten. But I thought I might as well return them to the ground – to waste away, you know, become a source of food for animals and other plants. So I came here, made a few holes and just dumped them. I never thought they would actually grow if they were still rotten. Taught me a lesson when they started to bloom.”

Jihoon smiled, following the florist who was walking backwards into his own maze of roses. “That’s a really nice story.”

“I guess it proves that no matter what, there’s always life lurking in unexpected places.”

The barista could only think of the summer’s day – years and years ago – when Minhyun had said his first words. _Jo! Milk!_

Nobody had ever expected the boy to be able to communicate or speak: and yet, Minhyun could comprehend much and say a few words, here and there. Safe to say Yoonjo poured him his milk very happily.

“Yeah,” he agreed, droplets starting to fall from the skies. “I think life _does_ lurk where you least expect it to.”

Seungcheol chuckled to himself, twirling in the maze. “I come by every spring to trim the bushes. In the night-time of course, so nobody finds out.”

“You’re an amazing man,” Woozi admitted.

“Thank you.” Seungcheol took a deep bow with a happy smile on his face. “…I come here sometimes to get calm, or to think. Do you have any places like that?”

“…yeah. I think I do. Come on.”

Jihoon walked his alpha date across the park and to the subway: when they got off, they were at the Royal Conservatory.

“…here?”

“I used to go here,” the barista lied easily. “So they let me use the back-door and come play their piano once in a while.”

“You play the piano?”

“M-hm. Come on.” Jihoon took the man’s hand – out of necessity, obviously – and helped to duck through one of the back doors. Seungcheol began to chuckle, feeling like a delinquent teenager, and Woozi wasn’t above joining him. The two giggled like kids until they got to a very small classroom, and the barista opened the piano case.

Seungcheol sat in a near-by chair. “I had no idea you could play an instrument.”

“Well enough,” the barista answered, pushing up his sleeves. “Not _masterfully_ , but my parents forced me to take lessons until I was eighteen.”

Seungcheol smiled and patiently waited.

Jihoon began a soft tune – Moonlight Sonata – his eyes eventually slipping closed as he let the music fill the room. His fingers moved over the keys masterfully, playing the keys exactly right. It was a tune he would never forget how to play.

“…that’s beautiful,” Seungcheol sighed when it was over.

“Thanks,” Woozi grinned. “I like music. I like it when it just… takes me away. It’s a very good stress-repellent. So when work or my family matters aren’t going so well I just… let the piano do its thing.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “A piano is nothing without its master.”

“…suppose not.”

Seungcheol leaned over and, very gently, kissed Jihoon on the lips once.

The barista went bright-red as the florist sat down again. “W…what was that for?”

“…it seemed appropriate.” The florist shrugged with a dopey, shy kind of a smile. “You played so prettily, I felt like giving it to you.”

“…oh.” Jihoon turned back to the keys to quickly start playing another song, cheeks burning. He had no idea how to respond to that kind of smooth-talkery, especially when it was… kind of welcome? After all, the alpha had a gentle soul and a very handsome face. And he was, for some inexplicable reason, drawn to _him_.

“Does that bother you?”

The words hung in the air over the sound of the piano until Jihoon’s fingers stilled, but he still didn’t have the courage to look up. “…no,” he eventually decided.

Seungcheol got up and leaned in to the pianist. “Woozi… look at me?”

The barista flushed even redder, heart beginning to pound again. That funny feeling was driving through his veins, making him feel a little dizzy again. “…what if I don’t want to?”

Seungcheol almost responded haughtily. _Almost_. “…then I’ll be very, very sad.”

It was surprise that made Jihoon turn: within a few moments, Seungcheol was kissing him again. It was a slow, sweet kiss, as if Seungcheol was trying to use his lips to drip his affection into Jihoon’s mouth: his fingers gently played with Jihoon’s ash-blond hair, keeping his head tilted up and his free arm went around the small-statured man.

When Seungcheol pulled away gently, all he could do was smile. “…I like doing that.”

Woozi had to catch his breath a little, eyes fluttering open. “…l-like doing what?”

“Kissing you. It’s enjoyable.”

The omega struggled to find words – _any_ words – for a moment, mind still reeling. “Uh, eh, uh… uhm…”

Seungcheol chuckled a little, pulling his chair up closer. “Do you not enjoy it?”

Jihoon’s face was still set in shock. “Uhhhh, I uh… n-m-y- uh….”

Seungcheol laughed, and leaned in for a sweet peck. “You’re cute when you’re so… flabbergasted.”

“…uh…”

Seungcheol waited patiently for the omega to speak.

“…thank you?”

He burst out into chuckles, nodding. “You’re welcome, handsome. You realize I like you, right?”

This caused Woozi to go red in the face all over again. “W-wh?” was all he could manage.

Seungcheol smiled happily and kissed Jihoon’s cheek. “I like you. I want to take you out on dates and do all that sappy shit that people do when they like each other. And it would make me really happy if you liked me too.”

If the Dark Prince had _known_ what to say, it wouldn’t even have come out.

“Don’t be so shocked. Can’t be the first time you’ve been asked out.”

“Uh!” There was an urgency of shock to his mutter now.

Seungcheol’s eyes widened. “…what, seriously? You’ve _never_ been asked out before?”

“Not for real!” the man practically squeaked. “Only ever as a joke!”

Seungcheol gripped him instantly, leaning in for another sweet kiss. “This is not a joke,” he whispered heavily before kissing the barista again, and again. “This is real. Please?”

“S-stop kissing me for a sec,” Jihoon breathed.

“…okay.”

Jihoon had to look away, blinking profusely. Normally, he’d whip out his phone and ask Joshua what the logical decision was here, but that would be a little awkward.

“Um… yes?”

Seungcheol turned back to his date. “Yes?”

“S-sure. What am I agreeing to, again?”

Seungcheol chuckled. “Mm, a few dates, I get to kiss you when I like and call you mushy names. That’s all.”

“That’s all?”

“Sure. Smoochi-poo.”

Woozi’s face drew to an unimpressed, neutral expression. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Little lovebird.”

“Oh my God, stop.”

“Cutie-pa-too-tie.”

“Cheol!”

“Cuddlebug!”

“I’m leaving!” Jihoon couldn’t help a grin of amusement lighting on his face, despite how annoying he could foresee the future becoming. “Bye!”

Seungcheol was up instantly to follow the barista. “Don’t leave me, pookie!”

Jihoon began a mad dash away: his new love interested following suit far too quickly.

 

Jeonghan was _itching_ to get details: so much so that he couldn’t even sit still in the carriage. “So, come on! Tell us!”

The Dark Prince had been rather mum about his dating experiences so far. Now he was locked in a carriage with his twin brothers and Jun, and he had nowhere to run to.

He sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“How long have you been going out?”

He thought about it. “About… just over a month now. If you don’t count the first two times.”

“Where did you go?”

“We’ve been to… the University of Science’s botanical gardens, aaand we went to the zoo, and an art gallery, we’ve been to two movies aaaand… somewhere else I can’t remember. Oh! And we went on a day spree to see how many restaurants we could find from different countries in the city.”

“How many did you find?”

“Shut up, Josh!”

The twins both ribbed each other for a moment.

“We got sixteen.”

“There’s actually 25 different countries represented in the city’s restaurant game.”

Jeonghan cleared his throat. “ANYWAY, have you done the dirty yet? Is he any good?”

“No, we have not _done the dirty yet_ ,” Jihoon mocked. “Leave me alone, dude.”

“You’re missing the best part. You’re the _only_ one of us who isn’t stuck in an arranged marriage, man. You should be _living it up._ ”

Jun scowled.

Jeonghan made a face. “You don’t count. Nobody _wants_ to marry your sorry ass.”

“Do you want to make this a fighting day? I’ll bludgeon your-”

Joshua threw an arm between the two brothers. “Stop it, you two. It’s a very special day. It’s one of the few days we get to see Jihoon, _and_ our brother is going to be crowned king in… two hours.” He covered his wristwatch with his sleeve again. “Could you _please_ try and behave? It’s a beautiful morning, there’s some nice sunshine. Be good.”

Jihoon pulled his phone out for what he knew would probably be the last time all day.

 **Seungcheol:** I’m sorry you couldn’t come to the coronation parade with me today, stud muffin : (

 **Jihoon:** I’m sorry too, babe. But I’ll call you first chance I get, okay?

 **Seungcheol:** I’ll see you Saturday.

Jihoon sighed a little wistfully, putting the phone away. His hair was gelled up off his forehead, he was done up with black eyeliner, and his face was a stoic thing to behold. Right now, he couldn’t be Seungcheol’s barista anymore. Right now, he was the Dark Prince.

 

Everything was going off without a hitch. Jihoon and his brothers were standing by the side-lines in full armour, each with a ceremonial gun in their hands (although, Jihoon somehow envisioned Jun swapping his fake for a real gun, and it didn’t seem too far-fetched), and Aron was fully cloaked and making his long walk down the middle aisle to be crowned King, wife and children five steps behind.

It all went very quickly then.

Aron stopped in the middle of his tracks. One hand swiped for a bannister that was far out of reach in the middle of the aisle. He began to swoop and sway where he stood.

Behind him, his wife Uee made an obscene sound.

Then _Aron_ made an obscene sound: he lurched forward onto his knees, throwing up horribly. It took a moment for the entire crowd to realize it wasn’t just nerves.

Jihoon was the first to react: he threw his fake gun to the ground and sprinted down the hallway to get to his brother, but by the time he skidded to a halt, it was too late.

Aron was dead, eyes open as he lay in a pool of his own thrown-up blood. His wife and three little girls behind him, all in similar positions.

“God, call a doctor!”

“There’s no use,” Jihoon told his second-eldest brother, standing up and away from the blood that was soaked through his uniform. “…they’re all dead.”


	8. Bella Motherfuckin' Swan

Once the ceremony hall had been cleared of people, the bodies were laid over in white and taken away on stretchers. Jihoon was hurried into a side hallway, and had his trousers changed for clean ones. There was a little spot of blood on the hem of his uniform jacket, but nobody had the mind to notice. Everybody was in a panic, or a daze.

Minhyun was whisked away instantly – his empty smiles would be construed in a very bad light indeed – together with two youngest members of the family, who didn’t need to see the slaughter.

Joshua and Jeonghan simply pulled close to each other and entwined their hands together. They could be polar opposites at times, but the twins loved each other more than they would ever say, and in times of adversity they always did this, even in their thirties.

Eventually, the royal family was escorted by an armed guard back to their carriages past the confused crowds that had gathered for the King’s coronation. Jun ranted and raved angrily inside; the twins stared at each other; Jihoon simply remained silent, staring at the speck of his brother’s blood on his uniform.

Back at the palace, the royal children were all convened in a drawing room or other: Jihoon made his way to his little brother, hugging him tightly.

Dino clutched his big brother back, sniffling. “W-why?” he blubbered. “Why?! I didn’t like it! I didn’t-”

Jihoon glanced up at his siblings, and realized the boy’s state of mind wasn’t helping anybody’s mood. “Shhhhh. It’s okay. Shhhh.” He picked the boy up and sat with him, hugging him tightly. “It’s going to be alright, Dino.”

“No it’s _not_!”

“Shhhh. Just calm down. It’s alright. I’m right here. I’m _right_ here, Dino.”

Nana was in pieces, sobbing against her husband’s shoulder – who, in all goodness, was trying to console her. They weren’t a very successful couple, really.

Shannon pulled herself up to sit on Jihoon’s other knee, and the Dark Prince simply sat there with his little siblings on his lap, stroking their hair until there was news to be heard.

Wonwoo walked in and sat down quietly. “...I…”

Jun gritted his teeth. “Spit it out, man!”

“… _murder,_ ” Wonwoo whispered. “…they were poisoned. All of them.”

Joshua gently walked to the end of the room and put the thermostat up against the chill that ran down everybody’s backs. “Any leads?”

“…none, yet. Everybody will be interviewed in the investigation. Starting with…”

Everybody looked at Joshua.

“Why me?”

Jun stared at his older brother. “Because with Aron dead and Nana married… you’re next in line for the throne.”

Joshua went a little pale. “Oh.” He sat down in a loveseat near the thermostat, a bit dizzy. “Oh. I see.”

 

“So, the last time you saw His Majesty was…?”

“Yesterday evening. We played backgammon.” Jihoon was literally clenching his teeth. He’d been through three interrogations prior to this, all of them exactly the same, and all of them asking their questions over and over again. “With Jun and Jeonghan.”

“Who won, did you say?”

“Jun, because he cheated.”

“Would you say Jun is a cheater?”

Jihoon ground his molars together. “Jun is of a military mind, and in war there is no cheating. He applies the same strategy to games. That’s why we never play him for money.”

“So Jun is a dishonest man?”

“No, you bumbling idiot!” the Dark Prince finally barked, scaring the detective in front of him. “My _brother_ is a respectable gentleman!”

“…you seem very _defensive_ , your Highness.”

“Well, when _your_ eldest brother and his family is murdered in cold blood on coronation day and you’re being interrogated by somebody who sounds like the KGB’s finest, you let me know how _you_ feel.” Jihoon’s eyes promised a very _unhappy_ future for the poor man. “Are you _quite_ done with spewing your filthy accusations and downright _ridiculous_ questions?”

“Your Highness, I merely-”

“Are we _done_?!” the young man demanded, the volume of his voice making the furniture tremble.

The inspector took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows. “Yes, yes I suppose we are.”

“Then _get out_ of my rooms,” he spat viciously, turning away to sit at his desk again.

The little man packed up his briefcase and made his way out into the corridor, sighing in relief of the cool air. He looked Jihoon’s bodyguard up and down.

Wonwoo smiled understandingly. “He’s something, isn’t he?”

“I used to fear nothing but death.” The inspector gave a small smile and used a handkerchief to dab away droplets on his forehead. “Now I’m not so sure. He really does deserve his title.”

Wonwoo’s smile disappeared at that. Jihoon _hated_ his title. The bodyguard slipped in the door to stand with his Prince again. “…hey,” he said softly.

Jihoon was holding it together: barely. He had his face in his hands, eyes brimming with water but not quite crying, arms shaking in anger, face red with emotion.

“It’s not _fair_ ,” he broke out, his voice displaying all his emotions to the world. “It’s just not _fair!_ He was my _brother!_ And now…”

Wonwoo sat with his Prince quietly. “I know.”

Jihoon could only glare: luckily, Wonwoo knew he was not the person the glare was directed at. “I’m just so angry!”

“I know.”

“Wonwoo…”

“…how’s Seungcheol?”

It was an attempt to take Jihoon’s mind off it: he’d been gone for days already, and hadn’t had a moment’s peace. He sat back in his chair and sighed. “He’s upset I’m not back yet. He has tickets to… somewhere-or-other and he’s going to have to go with somebody else.”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrows once. “Ah. Miss him much?”

“A bit. I miss working more. Oh, speaking of working…” Jihoon tried to relax his facial muscles. It wasn’t easy. “I say this, not because this is the best time to say it, but because I promised. You know my boss at Triple C?”

“Is that the pretty alpha?”

“No, he’s an ugly little shit.”

“With the perm?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I guess?”

“He thinks you’re cute.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, that’s not true. He thinks you’re _hot_. So if you ever feel like grabbing a cup of coffee, you’d really be boosting my career, you know?”

Wonwoo sat back, staring off into space to think about it.

“…anything else from the coroner?”

“…specifics are in the file you don’t dare open.” Wonwoo noted the sealed envelope on the desk. “They were all given lethal doses of some kind of acidic poison. It’s from… some kind of plant. I don’t know.”

Jihoon breathed calmly, staring at the sealed envelope too. “…when’s the funeral?”

“Tuesday morning. Your uncle says you’ll be allowed to go home Tuesday evening.”

The Prince closed his eyes. “Thank God.”

“…it’s hard, huh? Being here?”

“I don’t like the memories.” The boy’s eyes swooped through his room. “…I didn’t have a happy childhood, Wonwoo. And out _there_ I can just be a normal guy who makes coffee for people. I can… smile. I feel free. You know?”

“…yeah, I know.”

“I love my family, but we’re not a _normal_ family. It can be very difficult to function.”

Wonwoo simply nodded in understanding.

Jihoon checked his watch and sighed. “This time two days from now I’ll be back home. Now I’m _very_ sure my milk will have gone off.”

Wonwoo tried to hide a smile, but he couldn’t. “Want me to break into your house and throw it out?”

“Nah, it’s okay. If I’m lucky, it’ll still be in the buttermilk stage. I’ll bake… I don’t know, pancakes or something.”

Wonwoo nodded.

“How are _you_ dealing with all of this?”

“I’m upset. And worried. You are my primary target. If somebody is offing the Royal House… well, it’s only a matter of time.”

There were loud steps in the hallway: Jeonghan threw himself into the room, panting and heaving in the doorway.

The Prince and his bodyguard stood immediately. It was common knowledge that Jeonghan didn’t run. Ever. Like… _never_ ever.

Jihoon was half-way across the room when his brother managed to spit it out.

“Nana’s been stabbed in the chest.”

 

Four hours of surgery later, doctors pulled a white cloth over the Dutiful Princess’ face. There was nothing more they could have done to save her. She had lost too much blood, and the hole in her lung was too large to save her.

Accusations in the next room had flown wild. A conspiracy to kill the royal family – no, a conspiracy to kill _China’s_ royal family – no, a conspiracy to – bla-bla-bla. Jihoon was tired of it. He didn’t care _why_ his beloved family was being killed. He just wanted it to _stop_.

Nana was to be buried at the same time as Aron’s family. The two had been close – the eldest two – and there was nothing else to do now but to try and patch relations with China, and get to the bottom of it all.

“Uncle Heechul?” Jihoon said quietly while Jun and Joshua were yelling at each other.

The man sighed a little under the stress, turning to his nephew with wrinkles of worry on his forehead. “Yes, son?”

“…I’m not going home on Tuesday, am I?”

The man sighed. “…I don’t… _see_ why not. There’s… nothing else to be done here. But there will be a lot of phoning. And Wonwoo will have to stay with you.”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“Your _life_ is in _danger_ ,” Uncle Heechul emphasized. “I’m not letting my precious nephew run around in the open serving drinks with a smile until I know the killing is stopped. Does that sound logical to you, young man?”

The boy pursed his lips, but nodded, defeated. “…yes sir.” Then they were all allowed to say their private goodbyes to their siblings one more time before the funeral.

When it was Jihoon’s turn, he simply pressed his face up against Nana’s arm and _sobbed_. “You were supposed to _live_ ,” he whispered through his tears, fist banging unhappily on the medical table. “You were supposed to _live_! You were _pregnant_ damn it! Damn it, Nana!”

When Shannon was allowed into the room, she made a note of the wet mark on the medical sheet. But she never told a single soul.

 

The funeral was possibly the worst day of Jihoon’s life. He had to act calm and collected and unattached in front of the whole nation, which had been obliterated by the new King’s death and the heart-shattering news of a pregnant Princess being slaughtered had not softened the blow. The country had run out of black clothes.

Wonwoo had to go with the Prince, as promised, but that night he was allowed to be driven back to his home above the coffee shop. He didn’t have a second room, but that didn’t bother Wonwoo so much: in fact, the bodyguard was glad there was no separation between them. Any killer would have to get past Wonwoo’s lightning reflexes if they wanted to hurt his Prince.

Jihoon switched out the light and snuggled down into his bed.

“What are you going to tell people?”

“…you’re my cousin, on my mother’s side. You live in Jeju and you’re here to experience Seoul City for a few weeks.”

“…and after a few weeks?”

“I’ll worry about that in a few weeks.”

“…Goodnight, Woozi.”

The barista was able to form a brittle smile at that, for once. “…Night, Wonwoo.”

 

“God, you look like crap.”

Woozi pulled a face. “Yes, I missed you too.”

Seungcheol chuckled and blushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I missed you too. Loads. Come here.” He leaned in for a quick peck.

“Are you going to order, or are you just here to admire the scenery?”

“Both.” The florist grinned. “Caramel Macchiato, please.”

“On it’s way.” Woozi wasn’t really able to smile, doing his job yet, but at least the extremely harrowed, painful look at had been swept from his skin.

“I’m sorry your family put you through such a rough time,” Seungcheol sympathized.

“It’s alright, really,” the barista sighed. “They mean well. It’s just been difficult lately. Since dad died. It’s all… I don’t know, messed up. Can we not talk about it?”

“Of course, of course.”

“So,” a new, deep voice barged in. “This is the hunk you talk so much about?”

“Wonwoo!” Jihoon hissed harmlessly. “…Cheol, my cousin Wonwoo. Wonwoo, this is Seungcheol. Be nice to him.”

“Oh.” Seungcheol turned to shake the man’s hand.

“I’m up from Jeju island to stay with J- Woozi for a while.” Wonwoo was all smiles. “Just so you know, if you see us together.”

“Oh, good to know.” Seungcheol grinned at his omega. “Wouldn’t want to think you were cheating on me, handsome.”

Jihoon scoffed behind the counter. “Like anybody else would _want_ me.”

“That’s not true,” both men chorused.

“Besides,” Woozi prattled on quickly, “if anybody should be worried, it’s me. Wonwoo’s more handsome than I am. Don’t dump me for my own cousin. It’s rude.”

“Don’t worry. Hey, thanks gorgeous.” He handed Jihoon his credit card as he picked up the coffee to-go. “Listen, are we okay for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, totally.” Jihoon nodded, stripping the card through and handing it back. “See you later, babe.”

“You too, kissy-boo.”

“I swear to God, Seungcheol.”

The alpha laughed, pecked his lover on the cheek and exited the building, still snickering at his own joke. Jihoon continued cleaning up behind the bar, and ignoring Wonwoo’s intrusive gaze. To a certain point. Eventually, he was forced to slap his cloth on the table and look up. “What?”

“What _are_ you two?”

“What do you mean?”

Wonwoo leaned in. “You guys _totally_ act like you’re boyfriends, but you don’t call him that, so _what are ya doin’_?”

Jihoon sighed. “I dunno.”

“Well, what are you? Friends with benefits? Open relationship? What?”

“…we haven’t really talked about labelling what we have yet, stop pressuring me.”

“Well… if I were you, I’d go ahead and start labelling. Because you two almost seem serious.”

“When am I ever not serious?”

“You _know_ what I mean.” The omega bodyguard straightened out a little when Soonyoung arrived from the back room. “Just look into it, alright?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, stacking some more to-go cups. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Hi, Wonwoo.” Soonyoung was like a teenaged girl, smiling at Woozi’s ‘cousin’ so much. “Out of coffee? Can I offer you something else?”

“Can I have a cappuccino?”

“Sure.”

Within a few moments, the young barista began to sweat: Jihoon excused himself and had to go sit down in the back room for a moment, taking deep breathes.

A little because of his first day back – nerves, and all, after being out for so long – but mostly because of Wonwoo. And mostly, because Wonwoo was _right_. What _were_ they?

“Oh, God,” the boy whispered to himself, leaning his forehead on the table. “I’ve become Bella Motherfuckin’ Swan.”


	9. Jihoon, I Like That

**Seungcheol:** We’re going somewhere fancy, so wear your good clothes.

 **Jihoon:** Uh-oh. Now I’m worried.

 **Seungcheol:** Don’t be. One look at your pretty face and you could be wearing flip-flops for all the waiter cares.

 **Jihoon:** Don’t be silly.

 **Seungcheol:** I’m not, you’re beautiful, cutie-pie.

 **Jihoon:** You gotta stop with the pet names.

 **Seungcheol:** why?

 **Jihoon:** Because people think it’s weird.

 **Seungcheol:** Your cousin doesn’t like me much, huh?

 **Jihoon:** He thinks you’re spineless, for an alpha.

 **Seungcheol:** Spineless?!

 **Jihoon:** Yeah. Too ambiguous.

 **Seungcheol:** Oh well. Can’t please everybody ; )

 **Jihoon:** You’re a rascal. Six weeks, and you’re still a rascal.

 **Seungcheol:** Admit it, you kinda like it.

 **Jihoon:** …I kinda do.

 **Seungcheol:** God, you’re a cutie. How did I ever get somebody like you to date somebody like me?

 **Jihoon:** Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re very charismatic. You could probably have three or four boyfriends at the same time, and they’d still be okay with it.

 **Seungcheol:** Don’t be silly.

Jihoon pursed his lips a little. It wasn’t like Seungcheol had _denied_ having boyfriends.

 **Seungcheol:** I’m coming to pick you up, okay?

 **Jihoon:** I’ll wait downstairs.

Seungcheol rolled up in a red car, smirking over at his date. “Hey there, Woozi.”

“I didn’t know you had a car.” The interior of Seungcheol’s car smelled like mint and pine – a very nice kind of scent, if a little strange. “I didn’t know you could drive, either.”

“Ugh, come here.” Seungcheol gripped the small omega to him and kissed him deeply – the kind of kiss that went straight to Jihoon’s toes and made his heart thrum. Jihoon’s own, slender fingers simply slid into Seungcheol’s hair, lips fighting back just as passionately.

Seungcheol sighed in something resembling relief, grinning. “…I really did miss you.”

“…you too,” the barista gasped.

“Missed kissing you.”

“Yeah.”

Seungcheol smirked, leaning in for another kiss: the feeling was soft but so _strong_ at the same time. It felt like Jihoon was going to be consumed; like he was burning up from the inside out, and all he could do was push himself up against the flames and wish for more.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol growled a moment before starting again: he held Jihoon’s face in his hands, simply kissing him over and over until neither of them could really breathe anymore.

“…wow.”

Seungcheol went a bit pink. “…sorry. I got carried away.”

“No, no… it was, uh… good. Nice.”

“We better get going.” Seungcheol moved back onto his own seat again. “Before I fill up on your kisses.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes a little, pretending not to be affected by how charming Seungcheol could be. “…okay, you idiot.”

They had dinner at an Italian restaurant – a first for both of them – and had pasta and wine before deciding to take a walk, in the middle of the night, through the park. Hand in hand.

And _all_ Jihoon could think about was Wonwoo’s voice earlier that day.

“ _I’d get him to confirm some stuff, because he could have, like, five other boyfriends and string you along unknowingly. And you couldn’t even complain. Oh, by the way, you realize I have to stalk you guys to make sure he doesn’t knife you, right?_ ”

“…Woozi.”

The barista started. “Uh, yes?”

“Don’t get so jumpy. It’s just me.” Seungcheol glanced down. “…you’ve been awfully quiet tonight.”

He shook his head a bit. “Just… Wonwoo said something to me that had me thinking a bit.”

“Want to share with the rest of the class?” Seungcheol grinned, swinging their arms together. “Promise I’ll be a good listener.”

Jihoon thought about it. “…I’m not sure if it’s something I can say so easily.”

“Here.” Seungcheol interrupted, pulling him suddenly. “Let’s go sit on the swings.”

Jihoon broke out into a small chuckle, following good-naturedly until they were sat on swings side-by-side, gently swaying in the darkness.

Seungcheol waited patiently.

“…it’s awkward. I don’t really want to pressure you or make you feel bad or accuse you, but… I’m not… I mean…” He sighed. “It’s difficult.”

“They say honesty is the best policy.”

Jihoon took a deep breath and sighed it all out before trying again. “…Wonwoo _mentioned_ that we uh… well, you know, we never… um, I never asked… like… if I’m the only one?”

A long silence passed. Jihoon didn’t look at his date.

“…I have _no_ idea what that means,” Seungcheol said helplessly.

“Like, you know. Are you married? Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend, even? I never asked.” His voice was very quiet in the night. “…but at the same time… I don’t really want to know the answer.”

Another silence grew between them. Jihoon began to blabber.

“I guess I can’t be upset if you _are_ married. I mean, you’re a great guy. You’re young, and handsome, and charming, and smart. Who wouldn’t want to marry somebody like that? And it’s not like I ever asked, and I suppose you wouldn’t _have_ to tell me anything, I have no rights or anything, ‘cause it’s not like we ever promised each other anything or labelled… whatever this is. I mean. You know what I’m talking about, right? I guess it’s just been weighing on my mind. Ever since I got back it’s been really stressful and I really-”

“Shut up for a second.”

“What?”

“I said, shut up for a moment.”

Jihoon stared at the sand underneath his feet, feeling way more _stupid_ than he’d ever felt in his whole life. Here was a great guy – with all the amazing qualities he’d just named out loud – and he was about to ruin it with his big, dumb, stupid mouth.

“…this has been bothering you?” Seungcheol asked in a very quiet voice. “…makes you restless?”

After a moment, Woozi nodded. “I never thought of it before. I guess I’m a _real_ omega. Naïve to a fault.”

Seungcheol took an audibly deep breath. “I’m sorry to have been so vague. I… guess it didn’t really come to me, to tell you, either.”

 _This is it._ Jihoon scrunched his eyes closed, heart pounding angrily. _This is the part where he tells me he’s married. With kids._

“I have a boyfriend.”

Jihoon slid forward, burying his face in his hands silently. _I’m so stupid. I’m so fucking stupid. I’ve never been so fucking stupid in my whole, entire life. And I don’t know what I’m dumber for – for not asking on the first date, or for wishing I’d never asked in the first place. I kind of want to die now._

“…His name is Woozi. He’s a barista at the Triple C.”

Jihoon froze for a second and then jerked right back up in surprise.

Seungcheol’s face was emanating more honesty and purity, and maybe a little bit of hopeful anxiety. He leaned in a little. “I’m not married, and I’m not going out with anybody else. I like _you_. I liked you from the first moment you opened your mouth. I’ve liked you on every date we went out on. I didn’t want to label it because – well, I didn’t think you’d be in to it. I thought it would pressure you, or make you think it was too soon and too quick. Or that you just didn’t like caged relationships. That kind of thing. But if I could choose one person to be my boyfriend, it would be you.”

It was as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs, and he’d forgotten to inhale. “Oh.”

“…did you really think I was the type to cheat and play?”

“N-no! No, not like that!” And then Jihoon was breathing hard, suddenly, gasping for air. “It’s just that you’re such a great guy, and I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted two or even three people, I mean, it’s the least you deserve, because you’re really kind and funny and-”

“Woozi, babe, stop talking.”

Jihoon’s teeth snapped together audibly.

Seungcheol got off his swing and leaned down to kiss Jihoon _very_ gently – as if the wind could have blown their kiss away. “…please don’t think I’d choose to cheat on you, or cheat on somebody to be with you. I’m a simple, but honest man, Woozi. And… I really, _really_ like you. I think I might even be falling in love with you. This past month has been so great that I-”

“Stop talking,” Woozi whispered.

“I’m sorry, did the word love scare you because-”

“Stop talking,” the barista whispered again.

Seungcheol silenced instantly, staring up at his omega with dark eyes.

It took him a moment before Jihoon simply fell forward, hugging the alpha tightly. “I’m so happy,” he whispered. “Uh, I mean, relieved. Thank you. For not playing me.”

Seungcheol chuckled, holding him by the waist tightly. “Thank you for telling me something that you were worried about,” he answered, hugging back. “Thanks for trusting me, Woozi.”

The two stood there for a moment before Jihoon cleared his throat awkwardly and sat back on the swing. “Okay, now I feel bad. I have a confession to make.”

“Do _you_ have another boyfriend?”

“No!”

Seungcheol chuckled, sitting in the sand. “Then tell me.”

“Um, my name? Woozi? It’s kind of like… an alias. It’s like, uh… call it a pet name, if you will. A nickname. My… my real name is. Uhm. It’s… Jihoon.”

He held his breath.

Seungcheol simply smiled warmly. “…Jihoon.” They both enjoyed the sound of the name rolling off Seungcheol’s lips. “Jihoon. I like that.”

Jihoon let out his breath. _Unbelievable. I like him, but he’s a fucking idiot if he doesn’t recognize me as the Dark Prince. And if this gets serious, I’m going to have to tell him. At some point. And he might just murder my ass anyway._

“…anything else?”

“Nothing to report at this time, General.” Jihoon grinned, saluting. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Seungcheol chuckled with a broad grin. “Good, because I’ve got news.”

“News?”

“I’ve decided what my pet name is going to be for you.”

“Oh, God.” Jihoon cringed. “Fine, go ahead. Tell me what it is.”

The florist smiled. “ _My Jihoonie._ ”

Even in the darkness, the color on Jihoon’s cheeks was visible: he blushed darkly, looking everywhere except at Seungcheol. “…that’s acceptable.”

“I’m glad to hear it!”

“So now… I’m sorry I keep bringing it up, but, you know, like… b-bo… fre-… I can’t even _say_ it.”

“Boyfriend?”

“That word.” Jihoon nodded.

“…I’d like it. If you were my boyfriend. I’d be really, _really_ happy if you were my boyfriend. Please?”

Jihoon could only stare a little. “You’re not like other alphas.”

The alpha smirked. “Wouldn’t want to scare you off.”

“…yes.”

“Hm?”

“I’d be really happy, too. If I was your boyfriend. If you were my boyfriend. I mean. I mean if _we_ were-”

“Alright, Stutter McCant’-Speak,” Seungcheol chuckled, standing again. “That’s enough. I want to make out with my boyfriend now, if he’d like that, too.”

“Shut up.” Jihoon laughed, and tip-toed to kiss his lover briefly. “Oh, hey, the name thing? Only when we’re in private.”

“So, I can call you Jihoon now, but not in the Triple C?”

“Yup.”

“So it’s a secret?”

“Is that okay?”

The alpha nodded with a gentle expression. “For you, of course.”

 

Seungcheol pulled off his boyfriend’s mouth, panting a little. The fact that Jihoon had gently pressed his hand away from his butt had made him pause in the middle of his ministrations. “Too fast?” he gasped.

Jihoon blinked. _No. It’s not too fast. But I know for a fact Wonwoo’s a master spy and he’s probably watching us right now to make sure you don’t murder me._ “Uh… a little.”

“Sorry.” Seungcheol moved away to lie on his back beside his omega. “Sorry, really. I went too fast.”

“…’s okay. I shouldn’t be such a wimp.”

“No.” Seungcheol forced his lover to look at him. “Don’t think like that. Your happiness is very important here. You should be comfortable and _want it_. Alright?”

“Okay,” he answered in a small voice.

Seungcheol smiled and pecked Jihoon’s nose. “I’m happy, you know?”

“Me, too.”

“Do you want to stay over? Promise I won’t make a move.” He winked.

Jihoon took a deep breath, blinking at the door that was still half-open. “…actually, I should get home. I told Wonwoo I’d be out late, but if I don’t get home at all he’ll worry about me.”

“Alright.” Seungcheol kissed the omega again before getting up. “It’s nice that your cousin cares so much about you.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon reclaimed his shirt from Seungcheol’s bedroom floor. “I suppose.”

“Is he staying in your apartment?”

“Yeah.” Jihoon stood up again to do his buttons. “It’s fun, I guess. Haven’t seen him in a while, so.”

“Jeju, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Seungcheol finished his top button and reached out for his boyfriend’s hand. “Come on, babe,” he smiled happily. “I’ll drive you home.”

“What a gentleman,” Jihoon joked back, taking his hand. “I’m very spoiled.”

“That’s alright,” Seungcheol chuckled. “I’ll be your sugar daddy if you like.”

“Seungcheol!”

The man laughed, closing his front door behind the both of them.


	10. A Coffee Shop Affair

“Thank you for not making me watch you have sex.”

“Oh my God. Good morning, Wonwoo.”

“Good morning, your highness.” The man grinned over his shoulder as he flipped an egg effortlessly in the pan. “Sleep well?”

“Nah.”

“Hmm?”

“The constant terror of _maybe_ getting my ass jack-knifed into oblivion tends to keep me up lately.” The little omega slid into a chair at the kitchen table. “Watcha makin?”

“Breakfast omelette. That okay?”

“Sure.”

Wonwoo eventually plated up and the two had breakfast together: after that, Jihoon simply got dressed and went downstairs.

Wonwoo followed eventually, getting his Prince to make him a hot chocolate before the store opened. He sat on a barstool at the end, watching the boy work. “You really like it here, don’t you?”

Jihoon smiled peacefully at the little scratches in the wood of the counter that slid under his fingertips. “Yeah. It’s home.”

A long, peaceful silence fell before Wonwoo could speak again. “…I’m sorry. That it was so tough on you back… at the palace.”

“…that’s alright. I’m happy now.” Jihoon began to arrange teacups and to-go cups on the counter.

“Morning.” Soonyoung pulled his key from the front door. “Woozi, Wonwoo.”

“Hey, Soonyoungie.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo nodded, finishing his cup.

The boss clapped Woozi on the shoulder lightly. “Workin’ hard early in the morning, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen, I’ve got some paperwork I have to do in the back, so can you handle the opening for a while?”

Woozi checked the clock out of habit and nodded. “No problem.”

“Great. Thanks.” Soonyoung gave Wonwoo a funny look from the corner of his eye and dove into the back rooms, switching on the lights.

Wonwoo slid his teacup towards Woozi again. “I’m gonna go choose a book to read.”

“Sure.”

“Might take a while.”

“You and books? I would never doubt that for a moment.”

Wonwoo grinned and tried to be casual, slipping into the back: instead of moving right towards the stairs, he instantly ducked left, slamming the door behind him and freezing in the dark room, making a bit of a face. “…do you think he noticed?”

“No.” Soonyoung was already pulling Wonwoo’s tie out. “He’s a bit thick.”

“Come here,” Wonwoo gasped, gripping the man’s head in his hands and kissing him deeply.

Soonyoung growled a little happily, pushing the omega up against the door, kissing him back with vigour. “I don’t care, anyway.”

“I do…”

“Wonwoo, baby.” Soonyoung forced Wonwoo to look him in the eyes. “I’m _trying_ to seduce you here. Could you _please_ be a little more susceptible?”

The omega was putty in the man’s hands. “…okay.”

Soonyoung growled when he kissed the bodyguard again: pushing him up against the wall and simply _having_ him there, under his hands sent a thrill through the alpha.

Wonwoo was possibly the prettiest man he had ever seen, with intriguing, cold eyes and a lost expression, but rippling muscles. He was tall – taller than the alpha, even – and he had a voice that sent waves through Soonyoung’s whole body.

The startlingly beautiful omega growled back, pulling his head back. “Just _fuck_ me,” he breathed, voice going hoarse.

Soonyoung’s fingers had never worked faster: within moments, Wonwoo was stripped bare of his clothing and Soonyoung was half-naked himself, and sliding down the omega’s chest to create a trail of kisses heading south.

Wonwoo whimpered when Soonyoung’s tongue flicked out over his stomach, hands gripping onto the alpha’s head. “You, too,” he moaned.

Soonyoung stopped just above Wonwoo’s belly button, raising one eyebrow. “What?”

“You too. You still have your jeans on. Like always.”

“How childish of you.” Soonyoung smirked, straightening out. “But sure, whatever you want, gorgeous.” He slowly pulled his jeans off in an almost strip-worthy show and bared himself. “Feel better?”

Wonwoo gulped, struggling a little to bring his eyes back up to Soonyoung’s face. “Y…yes,” he whispered, glowing red.

“Filthy.” Soonyoung smirked, sliding his hands up Wonwoo’s chest and around his neck. “You’re filthy, Wonwoo.”

“Shut up.” Wonwoo leaned in for another heated, passionate kiss, gripping his alpha strongly. “…can I?”

Soonyoung raised one eyebrow again but then smirked. “If you want to.”

Wonwoo was still up against the door, and slid against it effortlessly to pull his plump lips around Soonyoung’s tip.

Soonyoung shuddered from head to toe at the heat. Wonwoo’s mouth was beautiful, a little on the small side, but beautiful and delicious and wet and _fucking damn it, so damn hot._ Soonyoung braced himself against the door with both hands before letting his left hand drop to caress Wonwoo’s hair. He let out a little sigh of relief. “That’s right,” he whispered. “…fuck.”

Wonwoo moaned happily around Soonyoung’s hardening cock, fingers playing with the alpha’s ass until he was being pulled up harshly.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Soonyoung churned out from the back of his throat. “Until you can’t even speak anymore, babe.”

It sent a thrill down the omega’s spine like a chill had a hold of the room. “Fuck,” he was all he could bring out.

Soonyoung kissed him harshly before pulling him forward – suddenly he was flipped and pressed up onto the long conference table.

It was all so instant, so dizzying – just like every time before that.

They had screwed six times yesterday – and twice in the middle of the night, downstairs in the back room with Jihoon asleep safely. The alpha was gorgeous and _charming_ – how could he say no to him? It was obvious from the beginning it was a no-strings-attached kind of relationship. They both had an extreme physical lust for each other, and exquisite compatibility in that respect, so there was no reason to say no.

Soonyoung pulled him in, leaning down, kissing his neck like it was the only thing giving him air. The alpha was intoxicating, owning Wonwoo’s body with too much ease. When he slid in, it was like fireworks in his stomach, and a fire in his heart. It was mind-blowingly good sex, time and time again. The way he pushed in, the way their skin hit, the way his lips never stopped even for a second until he came.

It was over too quickly – it was always over too quickly. Even though he’d already orgasmed, he had wanted it to go on. To keep going and going, over and over until they were too tired to even move. But Soonyoung wasn’t the type of guy.

And after all, their relationship was strictly quick do’s in back rooms whenever they could sneak in a moment.

Soonyoung used a piece of kitchen towel to clean the table just below where Wonwoo had moved to, and got dressed in record time. “I’ll be leaving first,” he said calmly, readjusting his t-shirt. “Lock the door after me.”

“…yeah.”

Soonyoung strutted out, closing the door quickly, and Wonwoo had to scamper to lock it before anybody could come in. He dressed slowly, head still in a daze, before sitting down in a chair and rubbing his face with both hands.

He took a deep breath, and went upstairs to fetch a book. Just for pretence.

 

“Fuck.”

Soonyoung moaned, rocking back and forth. “Fuck, baby, how are you still so _tight_? Fuck, shit.” He couldn’t stop: his body was on automatic, driving in to get more pleasure, over and over. “Baby, _cum_.”

Wonwoo couldn’t resist the command, releasing all over himself, and Soonyoung was _still_ ploughing in against his g-spot, the overstimulation making it hard for Wonwoo to keep his voice down.

Soonyoung let out a brutal groan and finished inside Wonwoo, filling him right up, simply standing there for a moment.

Wonwoo took a deep breath, trying to deal with the ecstasy.

“Fuck. That’s my last condom.”

Wonwoo sighed. It felt like a part of him inside was breaking a little, every time Soonyoung turned his back. “…it’s okay. I’ll go buy some later.” He rolled off the table and began to get dressed in a hurry.

“…something wrong?”

Wonwoo didn’t even pause on his way to the door. “Nope.”

Soonyoung’s arm flashed out, keeping the door closed. The man had his head tilted, expression neutral. “Are you sure? You seem a little awkward.”

“I’m good.” Wonwoo gritted his teeth for a moment.

“You’re not having second thoughts are you?”

“No, but we’ve fucked over ten times today, and I’m tired. Can’t I go sit down for a while?”

Soonyoung smirked then, hitting Wonwoo’s ass and dropping his arm. “If you still can, gorgeous.”

 

Lizzy leaned over to Woozi. “Hey. Do you uh… your cousin, do you know he’s, uh…”

“Fucking Soonyoung in the back room every day?” Woozi didn’t even flinch. “Yup.”

Lizzy blushed. “Not good at hiding it, are they?”

“Nope.”

“…what do we do?”

Woozi shrugged, finishing his foam art. “Nothing, I guess. It’s none of our business if they wanna screw each other rotten.”

“…you can just do that?”

The barista turned to his friend. “You wanna walk up to Soonyoung and talk to him outright about who he’s shoving his dick into?”

She bridled. “…I think I’m gonna clock out now.”

Woozi grinned. “See you, Lizzy.”

 

“…sure, I need to get to the store anyway.” Jihoon grabbed his coat. “You coming with, Wonwoo?”

The man looked up from his book. “Sure. There’s a few things I need to get, too.”

“You’re sure you want to close up by yourself?”

“Very sure.” Soonyoung smiled. “Don’t worry. You have your key right?”

“Yeah.” The two young men exited the building, walking in the dying sunlight to the corner-shop. “What do you need to get?” Jihoon asked, grabbing a basket.

“Not much,” Wonwoo hedged. “You need eggs, rice and vegetables.”

The barista pulled a face. “I don’t like vegetables.”

Wonwoo pulled a face right back. “That’s exactly why you need them. You’re going to die of scurvy, you know.”

“Shut up.”

Jihoon pretended not to notice when Wonwoo grabbed a jumbo box of condoms and plopped them on the counter, and Wonwoo pretended not to notice Jihoon not noticing.

 

It was all a little awkward. Wonwoo had secured Jihoon’s apartment: nothing was getting in our out of there until _he_ opened it up, and there were no criminals in the small house. But keeping his job of watching the Dark Prince was not his biggest problem.

Soonyoung was.

Soonyoung was very handsome, very charming, and _very_ sexy. They were physically compatible in every single way, and obviously very attracted to each other.

But Wonwoo had never imagined himself being in a relationship like… whatever this was. He’d always imagined he’d meet another omega, fall in love, settle, get married, have kids. That was just how he had planned it out. How he wanted it to be. And instead he was meeting a delicious alpha in the middle of the night, sneaking around for a quick fuck. It wasn’t his style at all, and Soonyoung’s obviously detached demeanor honestly had him a little self-conscious.

Sure, the sex was good. Great, even. But afterwards there was _nothing_. A kind of emptiness. In the past, even the most awful and quick lovers had given him something to live off. A sweet word, a kind caress. With Soonyoung, there was nothing. And Wonwoo desperately wanted there to be _something_. Anything. Anything that would make him feel in any way vaguely human again.

After the first round, Soonyoung simply put his pants back on, moving away a little. “…Coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Regular do?”

“…sure.” Wonwoo quickly moved to get dressed again.

“Don’t bother.” Soonyoung didn’t even turn around. “I’ll be good in another twenty minutes or so.”

“Are you always this… voracious?”

Soonyoung thought about it, not moving from the coffee pot. “Yup.”

“It’s a miracle you’re satiated with just _one_ person.”

The vaguely bitter edge in the omega’s voice wasn’t something Soonyoung picked up on. “I’m no stranger to trios, or even orgies. But it takes up a lot of energy to be checking up on more than one person at a time.”

“Ah.”

 

Wonwoo cleared his throat.

Jihoon slammed his glass down on the kitchen table. “Wonwoo, you’ve been twitchy ever since last night. What’s up, spit it out.”

The bodyguard blushed a bit, messing around with his own glass. “…I’ve been with you for five weeks now,” he said quietly.

Woozi waited. “Ahuh?”

“…nobody’s tried to murder you.”

Jihoon blinked in surprise. “Oh. Oh, right. They’re recalling you.”

Wonwoo looked up. “You sound upset.”

“Well, I love you like any of my brothers.” Jihoon shrugged. “But we can text.”

“Yeah. Well, at least you can have sex now, right?”

“You want to shut your trap?”

Wonwoo laughed. “I’ll be leaving around the time Triple C opens. Alright?”

“…yeah. Gonna miss you. You big idiot.”

“You too, Jihoon.”

 

“Sorry I’m late!” Soonyoung instantly threw on his apron, rushing through the shop. “There was a big accident and I saw the _whole_ thing.”

Jihoon winked. “It’s okay.”

“Alright.” Wonwoo tripped down the stairs and came in from the back rooms, bag slung over his shoulder. “That’s me.”

Jihoon nodded a little. “Aright, Wonwoo. Drive safely, alright?”

The two eldest men froze when they saw each other, and Jihoon ducked into the back room _very_ quickly.

“You’re going?” Soonyoung’s surprise couldn’t have been more evident.

“…yeah.” Wonwoo stood there, stiff and awkward. “I’ve been recalled.”

“…oh.” Soonyoung didn’t know where to look. “Well, um… okay. Uh, like Woozi said, drive safe, yeah?”

“Sure.”

The two stood there and stared at each other some more until Wonwoo simply headed for the door and left.

 


	11. For the Sake of Getting Ass

“Ah, so he finally went home.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon held a hand out to catch some droplets of rain. “I’m all alone again.”

“Don’t say it so depressingly.” Seungcheol’s arm around his waist tightened a little. “I’m still here, and it just so happens that I adore you. Buck up.”

Jihoon chuckled a little, leaning in a bit. “This is true.”

Seungcheol smiled in the dark of the evening. “Want to go out and catch a movie?”

Jihoon sighed a little. “I don’t feel like staying out. Can’t we watch something on Netflix at your place?”

“By not feeling like staying out, what you _really_ want is to be cuddled and snuggled under the blankets while it’s raining outside, don’t you?

Jihoon grinned. “That’s exactly what I want, sir.”

Seungcheol leaned down to give his boyfriend a sweet, fervent kiss on the lips. “Okay,” he smiled. “I can provide that.”

 

Jihoon was comfortably set between Seungcheol’s legs, back up against the alpha’s chest, watching the brand new musical with some interest. His boyfriend’s hands were folded on his stomach, as per usual. It was a very comfortable setting for them both.

But eventually, Seungcheol’s lips began to wander to Jihoon’s neck; the barista let out a little breath, slowly moving his head a little to give his lover more room.

Seungcheol’s hands began to unfold on Jihoon’s stomach before his fingers began to slide up, playing along the barista’s throat before letting one hand move to his chest, and the other further down south.

It took him a moment.

“Shit. Sorry, Jihoonie.”

“…what?” It took the barista a moment to pull himself out of his happy daze to turn to his boyfriend. “What’s wrong?”

“I got carried away, touching you.” Seungcheol’s expression was apologetic, and a little fearful. “Sorry. I know you’re not ready. I didn’t mean to get carried away.”

“Hey.” Jihoon turned on all fours on the bed and leaned in to kiss Seungcheol deeply. “Don’t worry. If I wasn’t enjoying it, I would stop you. Believe me.”

Seungcheol flushed pink. “E…enjoying it?”

Jihoon turned around again so his boyfriend wouldn’t notice him turning pink to match. “Sh.”

Seungcheol stared at the back of his barista’s head for a moment before experimentally pulling an arm over to caress up the inside of his thigh. The little twitch the omega gave was more than enough encouragement.

“You’re kind of sexy,” Seungcheol whispered, lips catching on the barista’s earlobe.

Jihoon gulped, breathing hard already. “…this is probably a bad time to tell you I’m a virgin?”

Seungcheol paused. “You what?”

Jihoon went bright red. “I… I’ve… I’m… I ne- uh… never… um…”

Seungcheol didn’t move for a couple of seconds and Jihoon began to get a little nervous. “Um… Ch-Cheol?”

He didn’t respond.

Jihoon began to slide away, heart doing something in his chest – whether it was beating or breaking, he couldn’t tell. “I should go,” he whispered, going red to the tips of his ears in shame.

“No!” The sound Seungcheol made was so _frightened_ , it made the omega jump. His alpha gathered him back into place, crossing his arms across Jihoon’s shoulders. “No, no, no-no-no, baby. Precious. Precious Jihoonie. Most precious Jihoonie. Don’t leave me. Precious baby.” Seungcheol’s forehead pressed against Jihoon’s back. “Don’t go.”

The omega froze, confused.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“S-sorry. I know it’s not… um. But there’s nothing I can… I mean… I could always _pay_ for a service if you didn’t want to-”

“Shut up.” Seungcheol pulled the boy around to face him, rattling him in the process. “Don’t you ever say that again. Jihoonie… I love you.”

Jihoon froze for a single second.

“I love you, Jihoon. I’m sorry I was insensitive. I didn’t know you were still a virgin.” Seungcheol closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against his omega’s. “I will cherish you forever, if you’ll let me. You mean a lot to me, Jihoonie. I don’t want your first time to be a rough and tumble in front of Netflix, if that’s alright with you.”

“…L-love me?” the poor barista repeated slowly.

“Shhhhh,” Seungcheol cooed. “I love you, Jihoonie. I’ll do anything for you. I’m sorry. Why would you say you’d pay a service? Do you think I wouldn’t want you if…? How could something like that make me love you less, want you less?” He saw the downturned look on his lover’s face and dropped his jaw a little. “…Jihoon, are you _ashamed_?”

“Of being a virgin in my twenties? Fuck yes!” the poor omega broke out.

“No, no no no no no no no!” Seungcheol’s fingers gently swept down the sides of Jihoon’s face and neck. “Don’t feel shame over something like that. My beautiful, beautiful Jihoonie. I love you. And the only thing about… _this_ … is that now I get to make sure your first time is the best experience you ever have. Do you understand?” His large, brown eyes held Jihoon’s for a long time. “Alright?”

“…alright,” Jihoon answered in a small voice.

“Alright.” The alpha broke out into a smile. “That’s my baby.”

Jihoon went red again with a new thought. “Hey… Cheol?”

“Yes?”

“Y-you said… l-lo-l… lo-…”

He smiled. “I love you, Jihoon.” The way the words rolled off his tongue was so natural, so smooth. “I love you a lot. I’m… is it _that_ awful for you? To hear me say it? Because it’s like all the freedom the world has to offer, for me. Do you hate it that much?”

Jihoon shook his head a little.

“…then, can I keep telling you?”

The younger man nodded.

Seungcheol gently put his arms around his omega’s waist. “I love you,” he whispered happily, hugging him. “I love you, Jihoonie.”

“…you, too.”

“Eh?” He moved back. “What did you just say to me?”

The poor, flabbergasted barista looked at anything but his boyfriend. “You too.”

Seungcheol began to laugh – not as if he was _laughing_ at Jihoon, but a wide-mouthed, hearty, open laugh of genuine happiness that thrilled straight through his body. It was so happy and his eyes crinkled so happily that Jihoon had no choice but to laugh along.

 

“…I’m kind of worried.” Lizzy pulled a face. “I’ve never been out-ditz’ed by anybody before. He’s already gotten 6 orders wrong, put the wrong sized lids on to-go cups a few times and he’s smattered _two_ cups.”

Jihoon took a deep breath. “Yeah, he’s not doing so well.”

“Well shouldn’t we-”

“ _He_ ’s the owner and the boss. What can we say?”

Lizzy shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m just scared he’s going to hurt himself. Please, Woozi?”

The boy sighed and nodded. “Okay. Today’s Friday, right? It’s your half-day. How about you clock-out now?”

“Thanks.”

It took a few minutes but then there was loud shouting in the back room. Woozi finished with his customer and curiously made his way back, wiping his hands on the tea-towel he was holding.

Soonyoung was red in the face with anger. “I’m _just so_ disappointed,” he growled. “That you would try to cheat us like this.”

Jihoon made a motion. “Soonyoung. What’s up?”

“Lizzy was clocking out.” Soonyoung was holding the crying girl’s wrist, tightly. “Before her time was up.”

“I told her to clock out,” Jihoon said calmly. “It’s Friday. Lizzy only works until one on Fridays. Remember?”

The boss stared at the snivelling girl in his arms.

“Oh, oh my God. Lizzy. Lizzy I’m so sorry. I thought it was Thursday. Lizzy I’m-”

“Go watch the shop,” Jihoon murmured softly, putting his hands on Lizzy’s shoulders. “I’ll take care of Lizzy.” He directed the poor girl to a seat and hugged her. “Shhhh, now. It’s alright. He’s not really angry with you.”

She sniffed. “I just – he just suddenly started yelling and I – and I! I just was so shocked!”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. It’s okay. I’m going to have a talk with him. Alright? It’s alright now.”

“Sorry.” The girl took some deep breathes. “It was just such a shock!”

“Yeah. It’s alright now. You’re okay.” Woozi helped her with her coat and waved at her until she was out of sight before joining Soonyoung in the deserted café.

The man looked at his employee with an upset look. “Is she alright?”

“She’ll be fine, it was the shock that got her. You’re going to have to get her flowers though.”

“Of course.”

“Purple ones. She likes purple ones.”

Soonyoung nodded, cleaning out a machine slowly.

“So, you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“You’ve been ditzier than Lizzy, lately. You keep breaking stuff, doing the orders wrong and your mind is all over the place.” Jihoon folded his arms. “What’s on your mind, big boss?”

The alpha pursed his lips for a moment, not answering.

“The store is empty,” Jihoon reminded him.

The man straightened and sighed, throwing down his cloth, sitting up on the counter. “Fine. Yes, something’s bothering me.”

The Dark Prince stood there and waited.

“It’s… um, there’s this _guy_.”

“A guy?” Woozi raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. A guy. We were… _really_ casual. Like… nothing deep or interesting. I don’t even think we were really friends. Just… acquaintances. And then one day he just… poof. Gone. Just like that. And since then… well, I kind of miss him. And not just physically, you know? I could get that anywhere. But it was… oh, I don’t know. It’s just difficult. I feel like I didn’t treat him very well. There’s something empty inside, you know? Like I should have treated him better. Like I should have worked harder to be friends. Or even more than friends. And now I regret not telling him how gorgeous he was, I think. I think I miss him. I don’t know. I sound stupid. Forget it.”

Jihoon shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Give me your phone.”

“…what for?”

“Give it to me.”

A few moments later, Woozi handed the phone back, Wonwoo’s contact details on the screen. “Just text him already and spare us all the embarrassment. Just stop fucking in the back room. Nobody can eat there anymore.”

The man went bright red, but disappeared into the back room with his phone in his hand regardless.

“Woozi!”

He was heard long before he was seen. The man ripped through the front door, raced around the counter and picked his boyfriend up. “Woozi, Woozi, Woozi! You’ll _never_ guess!”

“Whoa, whoa, put me down big fella!” The barista patted his boyfriend on the shoulders. “What’s happened?”

The florist’s eyes were glimmering brightly, face glowing. His smile reached right across his face. “I won!”

“Won what?”

“The competition! The competition to design the gardens for the Prince! I got in, I’m one of the five!”

Jihoon had to grin right back – the happiness in Seungcheol’s voice and on his face was infectious. “Really?! Babe, congratulations! Well done!”

The two hugged each other: Seungcheol twirled his boyfriend in gentle little circles. “I’m so happy I could die!”

“Don’t die,” Jihoon warned with a smile. “I’m so happy for you! I know it meant a lot to you.”

Seungcheol kissed his omega deeply. “I love you,” he laughed. “It did. Listen, I’ve got to go home and pack. The Prince wants to meet us all, _in person_ , in Busan and show us what he wants and where. And he wants us there tomorrow. So is it okay if I text you later?”

“Of course.” The barista grinned. “Go on and pack quickly. Text me when you arrive safe in Busan. Alright?”

Seungcheol kissed his omega twice more before leaving the shop as abruptly as he had arrived.

 

 **Jihoon:** Jeonghan, who did you accept for the designs of the Busan palace gardens?

 **Jeonghan:** Kang Seungyoon, Kim Yerim, Choi Seungcheol, Kim Taecyeon and Lee Amy. Why?

 **Jihoon:** Did you pick Seungcheol because of me?

 **Jeonghan:** No. Why? Do you know him?  
**Jeonghan:** OH MY GOD, WAIT. Is this your boyfriend?!

 **Jihoon:** Ah, phew.

 **Jeonghan:** He _is_ your boyfriend isn’t he!

 **Jihoon:** He doesn’t know about me, so please don’t let on. I’m begging you. For the sake of my relationship.

 **Jeonghan:** I don’t know…

 **Jihoon:** For the sake of me getting some ass?

 **Jeonghan:** Deal. Don’t worry, the secret is safe with me.

 

 **Soonyoung:** Hi, Wonwoo. It’s Soonyoung. From the Triple C? Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to meet again.

 **Wonwoo:** I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m busy.

 **Soonyoung:** Not even once? I wanted to say something to you. It’s kind of important.

 **Wonwoo:** You can tell me here.

 **Soonyoung:** I really can’t.

 **Wonwoo:** Listen, I’m sorry. I just don’t have time for meaningless dallying and quick sex moments in locked rooms anymore. Goodbye, Soonyoung.


	12. Valentine's Day

**Soonyoung:** Okay. Okay, I’ve thought about it. And I’m sorry. The way I treated you wasn’t right. I should have treated you proper. I should have taken care of you and kissed you and made you feel like a million bucks. I’m sorry. I hope you can find somebody who will do all those things for you.

 **Wonwoo:** …you’re right, you needed to say that in person.

 **Soonyoung:** Sorry.

 **Wonwoo:** …still want to talk about it face-to-face?

 **Soonyoung:** Can I?

 **Wonwoo:** I have time on Tuesday.

 **Soonyoung:** Come over for coffee?

 **Wonwoo:** Sure.

 

Somehow, things had not gone according to plan. Because _somehow_ , they had ended up locked up in the back room again.

Soonyoung halted instantly, half-crawled on top of Wonwoo, the omega looking up, confused.

“No.”

“What do you mean, _no_?” Wonwoo hissed. “You’re the one that asked me-”

“No, we’re not doing it like this.”

“What?!”

“Come here.” Soonyoung pulled the omega back onto his feet, unlocking the door and tugging him through. “Woozi! I’m leaving early.”

“Bye,” the Prince answered with ease.

Soonyoung pulled Wonwoo down the street and around the corner, all the way until they were in the alpha’s slightly messy apartment. Wonwoo was placed on the edge of the bed and Soonyoung sat up on his knees over him, leaning down to kiss him harshly.

“Soonyoung-”

“I want to take care of you.”

“What the hell?!”

They had to stop the make-out session for the alpha to take a deep breath, hovering over Wonwoo. “Okay. I want… to do the thing. With you. I don’t know. With you, everything is different. I didn’t think anything of it at first. Then when you left… I never felt like that before. Seeing a lover leave. I couldn’t stop staring at the door. I just wanted to see you turn around and come back through it. I couldn’t believe you were really _gone_. I’ve never felt so… so… out of _control_. I just wanted you to come back. And I realized how bad I’d treated you and when I look at you I can’t help but think you deserve the entire world, because you have the rest of the _galaxy_ in your eyes.”

Wonwoo simply stared a little.

“I can’t remember the last time I dated exclusively. It’s not something I’m used to. It’s uncomfortable to be so emotionally dependant on one person, to give them so much control over me. But nothing could ever be more uncomfortable than seeing you _leave_ and knowing I’d never look at your handsome face again. So I’m asking – no, I’m _begging_ you to give me another chance. I’ll do my best to do everything right, I promise. I’ll google it, if I have to. I just… I want to see you. Every day. I want to hear your voice. I want to know that your heart does the same thing my does. I want to come home and know that you’ll text me tomorrow.”

Wonwoo’s expression wasn’t changing.

“ _Please_?” Soonyoung breathed, staring at the omega. He held Wonwoo’s face between his hands, gently. “Please, Wonwoo.”

Then he suddenly broke out into a smile in the alpha’s hands – a blinding, soft, gentle, absolutely glorious smile. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

Soonyoung laughed and leaned forward to kiss his omega. “Thank you.”

“You too.” Wonwoo grinned, fingers already undoing all of Soonyoung’s buttons. “This is, by far, the best Valentine’s Day ever.”

 

 **Jihoon:** Miss you.

 **Seungcheol:** I’m sorry, baby. I miss you too. Busan is awesome. We should come here together someday.

 **Jihoon:** You’re enjoying it? That’s good.

 **Seungcheol:** It’s amazing. The Prince is so kind! And so damn _pretty_. It’s almost upsetting.

 **Jihoon:** I can imagine. Well, it’s almost midnight, so I’m going to go to bed.

 **Seungcheol:** Goodnight, Hoonie.

 **Jihoon:** Night, babe…

_Four hours later_

**Seungcheol:** Oh my God. This was Valentine’s Day. I mean, yesterday was Valentine’s. Oh my God. Jihoonie, I’m so sorry.

 **Jihoon:** It’s alright.

 **Seungcheol:** It’s not, is it? I should have prepared something.

 **Jihoon:** Don’t be silly. I don’t expect you to prepare something all the way from Busan.

 **Seungcheol:** I’m such an idiot. I had plans, too. I’m so sorry, baby. You ended up feeling lonely all day because of me.

 **Jihoon:** I’ve been lonely without you all week. Valentine’s Day doesn’t matter so much.

 **Seungcheol:** Of course it does. I’m sorry. No matter how much you try to hide it, I know you would have liked something.

 **Jihoon:** Fine. I’m a bit upset I didn’t get a “Happy Valentine’s Day”. I was really looking forward to spending Valentine’s day with a lover. But it’s okay. We can celebrate when you get back.

 **Seungcheol:** Baby, I don’t know how to make this up to you. My precious baby.

 **Jihoon:** Don’t sweat it Cheol. Can I go back to bed? It’s the middle of the night.

 **Seungcheol:** Go to bed, baby. I love you so much. I’m so sorry. Good night, sleep tight. Dream sweet, baby.

 

 **Jihoon:** I hear you’re delaying the coronation.

 **Joshua:** We’re going over security details, for everybody. Uncle Hee is worried that somebody is trying to take us all out, but he’s relaxed a little since there haven’t been any attempts so far.

 **Jun:** What your brother isn’t telling you, kid, is that China ain’t happy.

 **Jihoon:** Eh?

 **Joshua:** They are very upset that the crown prince’s wife has been murdered, and worry over his safety too. He’s been recalled. Yoonjo is in a tight position.

 **Jun:** Basically, war is here.

 **Joshua:** It’s not a great situation, no. I might… have to ask something horrible of you, Jihoon.

 **Jihoon:** Mum and dad promised.

 **Joshua:** Dad is gone and Mum had spiralled into depression. I’m in charge.

 **Jihoon:** Joshua, please.

 **Joshua:** It might not come to that. I’m going to do everything I can to not bring you back home. Alright? I’ll work hard, but…

 **Jun:** War is here, kid. Strap up.

 **Joshua:** Besides, I’ll always try and marry Jun off first. Nobody would have him, but I’ll try.

 **Jun:** FUCK YOU!

 

Seungcheol’s plane wasn’t scheduled to land until three. And yet, Jihoon was at the airport at two already, itching to see his boyfriend again.

He’d taken the entire afternoon off. He wasn’t even sure why he was _so_ itchy to see the stupid florist again. On the other hand, Soonyoung said three weeks was a long time. And it kind of was. And he missed his stupid florist.

He had never expected that falling in love with an alpha and then not having him around would be so uncomfortable. His mind was hazy and his pheromones were going so crazy even Ren was complaining about being extra attracted to the spoken-for omega.

Being without his alpha was distractingly uncomfortable. Jihoon had been more antsy, more nervous, fidgety and downright annoying since he left, and it hadn’t gotten better. Now he was hopping, _so close yet so far_ , pacing up and down the length of the whole airport plaza. He went up and down the stairs a few times too, until he saw a security guard give him the evil eye and decided he would have to cool it.

The airport had a very large Starbucks café, which to Jihoon – a connoisseur – was a deplorable coffee chain. But it was the best he was going to get, so he sat down and had an espresso.

 _Note to self,_ he typed into his mobile phone. _Do not consume caffeinated drinks when nervous._

He watched the huge light-up boards, staring, unblinking until it finally read that Seungcheol’s plane had touched down. At that moment he bucked up from his seat and made his way to the gate, hopping from one foot to the other.

There was, of course, the unstrapping, the gathering of items, the exiting of the plane, the going through customs, going through extra security _and_ baggage retrieval. Seungcheol arrived through the glass doors at a quarter to four, and obviously wasn’t expecting anybody to pick him up.

Jihoon had to rush after the man, sliding through the airport.

“Cheol! Seungcheol!”

The alpha paused, stopped entirely, and turned just in time to have a small omega bullet into him, throwing his arms around him.

“I missed you so much!”

The man chuckled, wrapping his thick arms around his omega and bending down to bury his face in the barista’s hair. “Jihoonie,” he smiled happily. “My Jihoonie. I missed you too.”

Jihoon sniffed a moment, moving so he could look up properly. The sight he saw there made him smile. “I missed your face.”

Seungcheol grinned, leaned down and gripped his omega by the seat of his pants, hoisting him off the ground in a bear hug. “I missed yours too. Ah, feels so good to hold you again. I don’t think I can leave for that long again.”

Jihoon simply held himself up, arms around his alpha’s neck. “I got very lonely. You’re going to have to make up for it.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“You’re going to kiss me. A lot. But first, we should get out of here. I’ve been here forever and the security guards are giving me the stink eye.”

Seungcheol put his arm around his omega’s waist as they exited the airport, giving him a sided glance. “You cut your hair,” he noted.

“Mm, yeah.” Jihoon tousled a part of his fringe. “It was getting too long.”

“It looks _KAF_.”

Jihoon closed his eyes in quiet despair. He knew _exactly_ what his boyfriend meant, but he had to pretend he didn’t. “KAF?” he asked innocently.

“Oh, the Prince uses it all the time. _Kawaii As Fuck_. Oh, Jihoon, he’s _so_ awesome. He’s the most relaxed person on the face of the planet. And he _really_ likes flowers. He knows the favourite flower of everybody in the Royal family. Even the weird Princes! And he’s so pretty.”

Jihoon didn’t really mind his boyfriend rambling on about his brother – it was, after all, amusing and entirely ironic – and he didn’t really mind when Seungcheol calling Jeonghan pretty, either. What he really minded was that four hours after the man had landed, he was _still_ talking about Jeonghan rather than his boyfriend.

“He’s just so _good_ with people.” Seungcheol sighed a little, sitting down with his wine glass finally.

Jihoon raised his eyebrows with a flat expression, unimpressed. He’d been sitting at the end of the couch for over an hour already, arms folded, waiting to get a little attention.

“What are you doing all the way over there for?” Seungcheol frowned a little, stretching an arm out. “Come here and cuddle!”

The Dark Prince’s blood began to boil, ever so slightly. “You have _got_ to be kidding, right?” he spat out.

A moment of silence passed. “No? Not really? I wanted to cuddle my boyfriend.”

“Well it sounds like he’s still back in Busan!” the barista barked, getting up. “If you want to fuck the Seductful Prince in the ass, at least have the decency to phone me and break up with me first!” And with that, he stomped out of his boyfriend’s apartment and slammed the door behind him before setting off on a running pace.

 

“…please?”

“Are you going to order something or not?” Jihoon snapped.

“…I’d like a café au lait, please.”

The barista moved, keeping his back to his boyfriend as much as possible.

“Woozi, I really am sorry.” Seungcheol put up his big puppy eyes. “I… I love you, you know? I’m sorry I was like that.”

“Whatever. Did you screw him?”

“No!” The alpha suddenly went red in the face, hands curling into fists. “What the _fuck_ , Woozi?!” It was good that the café was empty, because Seungcheol had no problem coming in behind the counter and rattling the boy hard. “I fucking _love_ you and I don’t want _anybody_ that’s not you!”

“Get _off_ me!” The omega pulled himself away, almost cowering from the alpha. “Just get out!”

Within seconds the alpha’s fury had subsided. He simply stood there, weak-limbed. “…Jihoon. I just want to love you. I want to make you feel happy. I’m sorry. I am genuinely sorry. I missed you so much all that time I… I don’t… please? Please forgive me? I miss you.”

Jihoon simply couldn’t answer.

 

 **Joshua:** Jihoon, is this girl pretty? _[image attachment  Open? Yes   No]_

 **Jihoon:** I suppose? Why?  
**Jihoon:** Oh, God. Joshua.

 **Joshua:** You knew this was a possibility. Her name is Hayi. She’s two years younger than you.

 **Jihoon:** Joshua, I can’t believe you’re setting me up for an _arranged marriage with a princess_. How could you?

 **Joshua:** Jihoon. You don’t seem to understand. Our line is not secure. People are _murdering_ our family. I need to do everything I can. This will stop the impending Chinese war. Besides, I didn’t quite promise them a marriage.

 **Jihoon:** You excuse me now?

 **Joshua:** You’re having a… trial courtship. I’ve invited Hayi to the palace for a few months. During that time you will be expected to make two days’ appearances every week. Take her out to events. Have tea on the lawn. It will be nice. You can think of it as a friendship.

 **Jihoon:** You couldn’t marry her to the great alpha Jun, but she was willing to settle for the dark omega?

 **Joshua:** Would _you_ look forward to being married to somebody literally nicknamed _the Bloodthirsty_?

 **Jihoon:** You make an excellent point.

 **Joshua:** I know. Listen, I’m sorry about this. If it ends up awful and you hate each other, I suppose we can call it off. But… kid, I’m scared. That’s all I can say. I’m scared. For me. For Jeonghan. For you. All of us. And I don’t know what to do other than this, for now.

 **Jihoon:** …yeah, I understand. It’s my regal duty, right?

 **Joshua:** I’ll help you every step of the way that I can.

 **Jihoon:** …yeah, thanks.

 **Joshua:** …I’m sorry about Seungcheol. I know this won’t be fair on him.

 **Jihoon:** …yeah. I’ve got to go. Ttyl?

 **Joshua:** Sure, kid. Love you.

 **Jihoon:** You too, big brother.


	13. Deathly Secrets

There were sunny days, and cloudy days, and rainy days: then there were days where the heavens seemed to hate the world, unleashing such a storm upon the face of the earth to drive terror into the hearts of most men. It had been lashing with rain all through the night, rivers brimming close by morning light. The gusts of wind had howled in so terrifying a pitch – like screaming children in a sea of storms – that nightmares plagued Seoul City’s residents relentlessly.

Jihoon had suffered three hellish nights of the storm before, on the third morning, he woke up to find one of the windows of Triple C bashed in; there was no evidence of robbery, simply the greater part of a huge oak tree right outside the store had crashed in beside the doorway. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, the young barista simply took a seat and began to cry at the sight of it.

Luckily, his bout of exhausted emotion was short-lived. By the time the rest of the street began to wake up and go to work, the omega was gently removing the last of the glass from the window pane. The tree-trunk he had casually laid in the middle of the café, unsure what to do with it. By the time Soonyoung showed up for work, Jihoon was already fixing a large wooden board to the inside of the pane.

“Whoa! Woozi?”

“Don’t worry. You remember a few years ago we had the back room re-furnished? This was that old counter-top we used to have. It was still in the back of the storage room, so I just grabbed it and hopped down the hardware store for some nails until we can get somebody in to outfit a new window.”

“What the hell happened?!” the distraught owner whined.

“That tree,” Jihoon answered, pointing into the café with his heavy hammer, “came right through the window last night in the storm. If you look out at the stump, you can see what happened. It must have been struck with lightning, and then it just broke and fell over right through the window.”

“Good God.” The man put his bag down in the middle of the floor, tip-toeing over to the branch. “This thing is huge. Did you move it all by yourself?”

“Made a pulley out of some of the old tea-towels and shifted it over. Do I look like a body-builder to you?” The Prince returned to his make-shift board and wonky nails. “The trunk is thicker than I am. I might have pulled a muscle in my shoulder, cause I can’t lift my arm up anymore.”

“That’s a problem.”

“Yeah.” The omega finished one last nail and put down the hammer, exhausted. “Right. That should about finish it for now.”

The alpha turned from the large piece of wood in his café to his employee of every month. “…no offence, Wooz, but… you don’t look so good.”

“I’m exhausted,” the boy smiled weakly, sitting down on the floor. He felt dizzy and hot – as if his blood was slow in his veins, thick and unhealthy. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

The alpha evaluated his favourite employee.

The Dark Prince looked a little worse than _not so good_. He was pale with large red blotches all over his skin; he had dark circles under his eyes for days; the look he gave was glassy and unfocused, and he was sweating bullets even though it was still quite cold. His breaths were uneven and shaky, and his expression was simply awful.

“…I think we need to get you to the emergency room, kid.”

“What?”

“You look like crap. You need a doctor.”

“…d-don’t be silly.”

“Jihoon, I’m telling you right now we are going to the hospital. You stay here. I’m going to get my car.” Soonyoung flipped the sign on the door to _closed_ and rushed out home to get his car.

 

Jihoon was lucky enough that even the smartest doctor in the hospital was terrible and recognizing people.

“We’ll keep you on the IV for today, and see how you’re doing in the morning. Alright? I’ll have the nurse bring you something to eat and drink.”

Jihoon moved his head over the pillow languidly to glance at Soonyoung. “…do me a favour? Go up to my apartment and grab me a set of clothes and a toothbrush?”

“Sure, kid. You rest up. You heard what the doctor said. You’re too stressed out. You need to rest.” Soonyoung got out of the plastic hospital chair with a groan. “Try to relax, alright?”

Jihoon nodded a little.

 

Sweat was dripping down his face by the time he was able to leave, the stress and worry carved into his face.

“Here.” Vernon thrust something into his hands as he left the shop. “Bring him those.”

“Thanks. Bye!” Seungcheol wasn’t even sure what was in his hands until he had already picked up the bag Soonyoung gave him at Triple C and was on his way to the hospital. It was a bouquet of brightly-colored flowers.

When Soonyoung had swung by the shop earlier to say that Woozi was in hospital – that _his boyfriend_ was staying overnight in hospital due to extreme stress – it had sent the man into a dead panic. All he could think of was his precious omega, safe in his arms, protected from the world. And no matter how upset Jihoon was with him, he had to at least go.

He just had to wait until Minghao arrived, because he couldn’t leave the shop to Vernon alone.

Soonyoung had made up a bag of Jihoon’s clothes and hygiene products, and then Seungcheol was simply racing through the streets.

He burst through the hospital, asking directions here and there until he found the ward where his omega had fallen half-asleep in the middle of texting on his phone, eyelids slipping closed in front of the screen.

He silently placed the bag on the bedside table.

The omega began to turn to see who it was, put Seungcheol put a hand on his shoulder. “Shhhh,” he whispered gently. “Sleep.”

 

It was evening by the time Jihoon woke up; he hadn’t ever realized Seungcheol had arrived, and started to see him there.

“Jihoon.” He jumped forward then sat again. “…I’m sorry. I had to come.”

The barista pulled a confused face.

“Uh, your boss came past and told me. Grabbed your clothes for me to bring. I hope you don’t mind.” He looked away, cheeks tinging pink. “…you can tell me to leave if you want.”

The barista closed his eyes for a moment. “You came straight away?”

“As soon as I could get away from work.” Seungcheol leaned in a little.

It took a moment, but Jihoon took a deep breath and stretched an arm out, eyes wide and a little sad. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he whispered, taking his boyfriend’s hand. “…forgive me?”

“No, no no!” Seungcheol dragged the chair closer to the bed and pressed his face up near Jihoon’s. “I should be asking you to forgive me. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t cherish you properly. I really _did_ miss you though.”

Jihoon nodded gently, gripping Seungcheol’s fingers. Everything was spinning in his head – their fight, the storms, the nightmares, the arranged marriage Joshua had prepared, the girl’s face, the smell of coffee, the smell of fresh sap in the window – it all swirled like a nightmarish twister in his mind.

“I love you, Jihoonie.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “You too.”

The alpha gave him a serene smile and leaned in. “I was so worried when I heard. So worried, baby.”

“I’ll be okay. I have to stay in overnight though.”

“Yeah. He told me.” Seungcheol moved to kiss Jihoon’s palm gently. “I was so worried. You need to rest lots from now on, alright?”

“I’ll be good,” Jihoon smiled gently. “…Cheol?”

“Yes, love?”

“…can I maybe… have a kiss?”

The alpha chuckled, getting up to lean down and gently kiss his boyfriend on the forehead, then on his eyebrow, then his cheek before finally pecking his lips sweetly. “There. Feel better?”

“So much better,” Jihoon grinned sleepily. “You must be a doctor. Your kisses are making me well again.”

The laugh Seungcheol belted was deep but genuinely happy, bouncing off the walls as his eyes crinkled. “God, you’re even cuter like this. You should go back to sleep now, cutie. I’ll be here to take care of you.”

“Nu-uh.” Jihoon rubbed his eyes cutely. “Go and sleep back home. You can come back in the morning.”

He deliberated. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” In reality, he just needed to be alone for a moment. “Bring me breakfast.”

Seungcheol chuckled and leaned down to kiss his boyfriend one more time, savouring the sweetness of the moment. “Okay baby,” he whispered happily. “Hey Jihoon?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.” Seungcheol was grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you. I love you so much.”

“Okay, big sap,” the barista smiled. “Get going.”

 

 _Nothing is fair in this world,_ he thought unhappily, staring at the picture of the girl on his phone. _Absolutely nothing. I want to stay here, and make coffee, and go out on dates with Cheol. I don’t want to have a courtship. I don’t want to be a prince. And I don’t want to go back to the palace and see my mother. No. That would be the worst. I really, really don’t want to see my mother._

Seungcheol brought breakfast, as requested – hot pancakes with syrup and Nutella – and when the barista was released, the alpha picked him up to bring him to the car.

“I’m not a damsel, you know,” Jihoon contradicted with a murmur, putting his arms around his boyfriend’s thick neck.

“No, you’re my precious boyfriend. And I love you.” He moved his face for a peck and gently put the Prince in his car. “I’m taking you home, to rest.”

“You’re just awful,” Jihoon smiled happily. “Can’t I at least sit in Triple C and rest there?”

“Only if you let me be with you,” Seungcheol grinned, moving to back out of his parking spot. “Then I’ll let you rest wherever you like.”

 

Lizzy was the first to see the car arrive – she squeaked and squealed, running around the half-full café to announce their arrival before opening the door wide and rushing out. “Woozi! You’re back! We were all so upset!”

The small barista gave a simple smile, being guided along by his alpha once he stepped out. “Hey, Lizzy. I missed you too, kid.”

Lizzy was wearing one of the purple violets Soonyoung got her in her hair today. “You’ll never believe what Ren and Seungkwan did!”

“Seungkwan?”

“Yeah, he’s our new delivery boy!”

“We’re doing delivery now?” Jihoon raised an eyebrow, walking into his little palace-away-from-the-palace. “Hey!”

Ren barely looked up from the delicate latte foam art he was creating: Soonyoung gave a delighted wave. “Hey there, Woozi!”

Lizzy directed her colleague to the back. The enormous tree trunk which had broken through their window had been cut in two halves: one half had become a set of planks in the corner, harboring within them what seemed to be an enormous vat of small pebbles. In the middle of those pebbles, the rest of the tree had been set, with its branches stripped of their leaves and reaching out across the back wall. Around it stood glass. Lots and lots of glass.

“Seungkwan is out getting the last things now. It’s going to be so good!”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“We’re going to fill it with more plants and water and then we’re going to put _fish_ in it!” Lizzy jumped on the spot, clapping her hands. “We’re going to have our own fish tank!”

The girl’s excitable manner gave Jihoon some reprise from his head being too full of thought: throughout the day she would come over to where he sat with his boyfriend and tell them something, or muss Jihoon’s hair, or serve another pot of coffee. She was, without a doubt, the bubbliest worker in the Triple C, and usually it could be annoying, but today the boy was nothing but glad.

Both Ren and Soonyoung came over to welcome Jihoon back – both of them making Seungcheol uncomfortable with their fierce, dominant alpha stances, towering over his tiny omega. Eventually, he got sick of it, and pulled into the seat beside him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Seungcheol slung his arm around Woozi’s shoulders casually. “I just… miss touching you.”

“You’re a filthy liar.”

“Okay, okay. You are _my_ omega. I’m your alpha.” Seungcheol pressed his face into his lover’s hair. “It’s my duty to protect you,” he whispered. “To keep you safe. To hold you in my arms and make you feel precious and loved. I’m the one that stands in front of you in battle, and will stand behind you in all your decisions. And I don’t take kindly to other alphas pouring over you like you’re a lump of meat.”

It took a moment before Jihoon began to laugh – loud, clear, and happy. “Seungcheol! You’re so sweet.” He leaned in for a happy kiss. “Don’t be silly. Nobody here wants me but you.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Woozi, Woozi!” Lizzy’s voice giggled through the café as she dragged a boy along in her hand. “This is Seungkwan! Our newest recruit!”

The boy stood there a little surprised, both hands holding large, heavy plastic bags. He wasn’t very tall – taller than Woozi, but not _very_ much so – and had bright red, curly hair dripping over his forehead. He had bright, sparkly eyes and blush, rosy cheeks.

“Hello! I’m Seungkwan!”

“Hello there.” Woozi smiled weakly. “I’m Woozi. Welcome to the Triple C family.”

“Everybody says you are the greatest barista that ever lived!”

The omega burst out a light chuckle. “I really doubt I’m the best.”

“You’re the best,” Seungcheol muttered from behind.

“But thank you.”

“Soonyoung says if I do very well, he’ll let me apprentice under you!” The boy’s eager look gave away just how much he would have liked that.

Woozi wasn’t often a _softie_ , but anybody with a penchant for the fragrant art he loved so much received a certain amount of respect in his eyes. “Do your work well, come in on time, be precise, patient and welcoming, and you’ll be an apprentice barista in three months.”

“Three months? Really?!”

“M-hm.” The barista nodded. “Both Ren and Soonyoung have vacations booked in the summer, so we’ll need another barista around. Work hard, okay Seungkwan?”

“Yes sir!” The younger omega would have saluted, but his arms were both full.

“What _have_ you got there?”

Lizzy took one bag and danced. “Things for the fish tank!”

 

It was nine PM when Soonyoung finally closed up; Jihoon and Seungcheol were left with some items to keep drinking coffee into the night, with the whole shop sealed up dark around them.

“You know,” Seungcheol said calmly, playing with his empty coffee cup. “We’ve been dating for a few months now.”

“Yeah.”

“…let’s say about half a year.”

“That’s a stretch, but alright,” Jihoon grinned, gently pouring the boiled water.

“I still don’t know.”

“What?”

“What your favorite coffee is.”

There was some silence as Jihoon brewed the coffee, straining it through one filter, and created two perfect cups of Colombian coffee, adding chocolate liqueur to either for extra spice.

They sat and tasted the coffee for a moment.

“I tell most people I have a different favorite every day,” Woozi said quietly. “But that’s not true.”

“It’s not?” Seungcheol leaned in, both hands forming themselves around his cup. “Do tell?”

“It’s a deathly secret.” Jihoon leaned in just as much. “There’s only one person in even my own family who knows. I kind of don’t want to tell you.”

Seungcheol thought about it. “I’ll tell you one of my deathly secrets in return?”

“Deal.”

They both finished their cups.

Jihoon looked at the table, blushing in the low lighting. “…I don’t like coffee.”

“…what?”

“I think it tastes _disgusting_ to drink for fun,” he whispered, looking up. “I prefer tea.”

It took a moment of silence before they both began to laugh.

“Unbelievable!” Seungcheol giggled, leaning back. “I thought you loved coffee!”

“I do!” Jihoon held up his palms. “It’s hard to explain! I enjoy the aroma, the art, the look on somebody’s face when they taste my coffee. And I will taste it often to make sure I’m doing it right. But if I’m out somewhere just for myself, I’ll _always_ order tea. Green tea, if possible.”

“Green tea latte?”

“Just green tea.”

“You really hate coffee?”

“It’s disgusting!” Jihoon laughed. “I don’t know how you drink it! It’s _so_ bitter. Okay, now it’s your turn. Your deathly secret!”

Seungcheol gave his boyfriend a serious look. “Don’t judge me.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m deathly afraid of clowns.”

“Clowns are gross. No judging here.”

They sat laughing for a while together, until Jihoon took a deep breath, and had the courage to say it. “Seungcheol… there’s something else I have to tell you. I’m not… it’s difficult for me. But… you’re… we’re… I want you to know. I think… this is a good time.”

The man sobered. “This really is serious, isn’t it?”

He bit his lip a moment, not looking up. “Yeah.”

“Hoonie, you can tell me anything.”

Jihoon filled his lungs until they hurt, and just _said_ it, loud and fast.

“…I’m his highness the Dark Prince Jihoon.”


	14. 60 Seconds

_Badum._

_Badum._

_Badum._

_Badum._

_Breathe in._

_Badum._

_Badum._

_Breathe out._

_Badum._

_Badum._

He waited, until his skin began to itch. “Well?” he demanded softly.

Seungcheol moved across the table, picking up with one of the cone-shaped paper coffee filters off the table, opening it up and gently placing it up-turned on his boyfriend’s head. “Your majesty!” he chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Jihoon froze, confused.

“Very cute, babe.” He grinned. “Although you’re an omega and… well, I guess you _do_ have a similar kind of face shape as the prince. But really! Look at you. You’re glowing, glittering, smiling and happy and bright! You could never be the Dark Prince.” The look Seungcheol gave his boyfriend was doting, adoring, and absolutely committed. “Look at you. You’re the most precious man in the world. It’s alright that you’re just a barista and not really royalty. You can be the Prince of my heart.”

Something in Jihoon got both extremely anxious and extremely relaxed at the same time, as his shocked expression melted into something far sweeter, with a loving smile on his face. “The Prince of your heart?”

“Complete with your coffee-filter crown.” Seungcheol tapped the paper on Jihoon’s head. “It’s kind of cute on you.”

“Not clown-like?” the omega teased.

“Okay maybe a little. Take it off.”

“But my crown!” Jihoon put both hands to the coffee filter on his head. “I can’t possibly take off my pretty, pretty crown! My clown crown!”

“Jihoon!”

The barista stood, one hand on the filter on his head as he skipped away from his lover, who came bounding after him: after just a few seconds of chase Seungcheol stole an arm around Jihoon’s waist, tipped his coffee filter crown off his head and kissed him _deeply_.

If Jihoon had to describe it, it could have been a thousand things. It was like swimming through the night sky, filled with stars and a sense of wonder; it was like the taste of dark chocolate, rich and mysterious; it was like candle-light, a soft, warm glow that spread through his body like a flame. When Seungcheol kissed him, all was right with the world. When Seungcheol kissed him, it was as if he was _home_. Not his home in the palace, surrounded by whispering maids and annoyed brothers, and not his little apartment that made do, and not the countertop of his café where his passion danced on notes of earth and water. When Seungcheol kissed him, it was as if he was free.

More free than he had ever been. More free than he had ever hoped to be. More free than he knew he could be.

“I love you,” Seungcheol whispered between kisses. The sound made hairs on Jihoon’s neck stand up, made his body twist closer.

“I love you,” the alpha repeated over and over, cupping Jihoon’s face in his hands as he kissed. His warm, broad, lovely hands.

“I love you.” The pressure against Jihoon’s forehead of Seungcheol’s was lovely, hot, heavy and simply lovely. “I love you so much. How did I become so attached in such a short time? It’s only March.”

“Maybe it’s magic,” Jihoon breathed back in the darkness.

“Your magic, then,” Seungcheol whispered back, his arms grappling around Jihoon’s waist possessively. “You must be an elf, or a fairy of some kind. You’ve put a spell on me. A spell of soulmates. I can’t look away from you. Can’t not touch you. Can’t leave you. You own me, you know that?”

The heat was stifling and the darkness made his heart speed up, but Jihoon could only look at his lover.

“You own my body. My mind. My soul.” Seungcheol took Jihoon’s hand, pressing the palm to his chest. “Do you hear it? The heart? It is yours. Belongs to you. You’ve overwhelmed me, Jihoonie. I never expected there to be so much to fall in love with. The way you speak, the way you think, the way you smile. I didn’t think there could ever be so much happiness in the world, never mind how I feel when I see your face.”

“Seungcheol.” Jihoon blushed. “You’re seducing me.”

“Shhhh.” The alpha hushed him with a small kiss. “You make me feel alive, Jihoonie. Alive and happy and _free_. And I didn’t even think I wasn’t free before. Everything is… different. Do you know what petrichor is?”

“…it’s the smell that’s freed when rain hits dry soil,” Jihoon answered breathlessly, confused with the direction the conversation had taken. “An earthy, plant-y smell.”

“It’s my favorite scent in the whole world. It’s so fresh, happy and _bright_ – just like your eyes when you’re making coffee, like your smile when you open the shop. The way the very edged corners of your mouth curl up and you look away because you’re so shy. I feel like I’ve found a thousand worlds living inside you, Jihoon, already – and I feel like there’s a million more left for me to explore.”

“I love you,” Jihoon whispered, pulling himself up for another kiss. This time, it was a little wilder, a little less constrained. This time, it was more passionate and deep and _hot_ than ever before.

Seungcheol stayed over at Jihoon’s that night.

  


“…good morning, most beautiful man on earth,” Seungcheol whispered. He was sitting up in bed on his side, supporting his head with one arm handsomely. Like a bedroom model. He raised one hand to gently press the pad of his thumb to Jihoon’s lower lip, rubbing it a little.

The omega took a deep breath at the sight of Seungcheol, entirely naked, wrapped up in his pristine white bedsheets. “…good morning,” he smiled shyly.

They stared at each other for a while.

“That was…”

“Did I hurt you?” Seungcheol was careful to keep his expression neutral. “Is it sore?”

“…a little.” Jihoon wiggled slightly under the sheets. “It’s not so bad.”

“Here.” Seungcheol leaned down to kiss Jihoon’s lips. “I love you, Hoonie. And last night, you said you loved me too. That meant a lot. Thank you.”

“I’ve said it before,” the boy pouted, wriggling more under the white sheets.

“No, you’ve said _me too_ plenty though,” Seungcheol teased, eyes becoming little happy boughs. “You’re too cute. Too funny.” He chuckled a little. “Dark Prince. Sure, babe. You’re the farthest thing from that taciturn, evil boy.”

Jihoon’s mouth became a straight, thin line. “…I forgot to tell you. I have to leave today.”

“What?”

“Another family thing.” Jihoon rolled his eyes. “They’ve booked me into a wellness center for two days every week for a few months. To de-stress.”

“…that’s good,” Seungcheol evaluated at length. “You should relax. De-stress. So you don’t need to be hospitalized again.”

“Yeah. I’ll just miss you. A lot.”

“Yeah. You too.”

“…Seungcheol?”

“Yes, Jihoon?”

“Kiss me.”

  


Jihoon curled a finger under his collar, irritated as he walked with Joshua at his side. “I fucking hate this,” he growled, the thick dark eyeliner on his face accentuating the scowl. “I hate you, too.”

“The least you could do is be in a better mood,” Joshua chastised gently. “This girl is practically all alone, she’s in a weird country, being courted by the Dark Prince who has never smiled according to all mankind. Don’t forget if you marry, it won’t exactly be lovely for _her_ either.”

This thought made the Dark Prince come to a halt. He’d never thought of it that way. “If it’s so awful for her to be married to me, then why is _she_ doing this?”

“Because she has to for her country. Because she has a sense of _duty_.” Joshua grinned, pulling his brother along gently. “Besides, I’ve already met her. I don’t think she’s the kind of young lady to just take everything sitting down. She’s not a _passive_ princess. You’ll have your hands full with her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“…you’ll figure it out when you meet her.”

Out on the lawn, a respectable distance from the front gates where paparazzi were pressing cameras through the bars, sat a small marquis tent. Under it sat a small but beautiful white wrought iron table with two white chairs to match and a silver trolley with silverware on it. The table itself was set with some of the finest china and laid out with some beautiful pastry desserts.

In one of the chairs, sat a young lady with a small dog in her lap.

She was – Jihoon had to admit – very beautiful. She was small – the same size as Jihoon – with a bright face and lovely wide eyes. Her curls cascaded around her shoulders under a pretty pink sunhat, that went well to match with her pretty pink dress.

“Your highness,” Joshua smiled kindly. “May I present-”

“Jihoonie.” The girl gave him a wide grin, brushed her small Pomeranian off her lap, stood and held her hand out openly. “Hi.”

Joshua stifled a chuckle. “Jihoon, the Princess Hayi.”

“Your high-”

“God help us all if that’s how we’re starting off,” the princess said to the Prince’s bow. “I was always taught that one must start in the same way one wishes to continue, and if you’re the face I’m going to be seeing for the foreseeable future and all my life, you bet your little _booty_ I’m not going to do it standing upon ceremony and politeness.” She stuck her hand out again patiently.

Jihoon froze a moment. “Start in the same way one wishes to continue?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, the Dark Prince took her hand, giving the back of it a small kiss.

“Hm, charming after all. Isn’t that lovely now?”

Joshua was going pink in the face from trying not to laugh at his little brother’s trepidation. “Alright you two. I’m going to leave you here for the time being. Try not to stay out here for too long, because it’s going to rain at four. Alright?”

“Bye-bye!”

“See you,” Jihoon mumbled. He moved around to hold Hayi’s seat for her – as was _proper_ – but she gave him a look.

“So help me God,” she simply said.

The Dark Prince’s face didn’t even move. “For the sake of the paparazzi,” he answered coolly. “I’m already a Dark and despicable creature in their eyes. Don’t make me look impolite, too, please.”

Hayi put a hand on her hip, sighing deeply as she looked over at the gates. She pulled up an arm that was draped in a very delicate, baby-pink chiffon sleeve of her perfectly lady-like dress, turned to the cameras facing her way, and stuck up her perfectly manicured middle finger.

Jihoon jumped to, standing in front of her, probably too late: the expression on his face was one of extreme surprise.

Hayi blushed a little. “Uh… sorry. I’m sure that wasn’t proper. I just… _hate_ reporters. Did I get you into much trouble?”

The prince slowly shook his head. “No. I’m quite sure they think we’re the perfect couple now. But let’s at least sit.”

Hayi allowed herself to be seated by the young Prince – her back mercifully facing the gates – and gave a soft smile. “Sorry. I know I’m a little… _out there_.” She made a motion over the table, spreading her fingers wide and shaking them. “It’s an issue.”

Jihoon didn’t even think about it, examining his cup for a moment. “Not at all. It’s very refreshing.”

She looked up in surprise. “…what? Really?”

“Yes, really. Don’t you ever feel that protocol and procedure are just so…”

“ _Stuffy_?” they chorused together.

Hayi giggled to herself. “All the time.”

“Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee please.” Hayi shook her head a little, straightening out. “I love it.”

Jihoon’s expression was entirely neutral, in no small part due to the cameras still flashing his way. “Well, let’s see if the kitchens have improved of late. I always think their coffee is _terrible_. Should be ashamed to even call it coffee. Cream?”

“Yes please.” Hayi smiled, watching the Prince pour. “That’s fine. Well, if they can’t call it coffee, then what should they call it?”

Jihoon reached for the teapot, pausing a moment before pouring himself a cup. “ _Bean water._ ”

Hayi’s mouth opened wide to laugh, and she had no problems doing so loudly and with mirth; her eyes closed entirely as she giggled. “Very good. I will let you know whether it’s bean water or coffee. How about you? Do you have tea, or leaf water?”

“…Tea is _always_ leaf water,” Jihoon answered. There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face, but it was there in his voice. At least the Princess wasn’t a stuck-up little beta.

“Touché.” They both took a drink from their cups respectively.

Hayi made a little smacking noise, took another sip, and very calmly set the cup down. “Bean water,” she declared. “With cream.”

“What a disgrace.”

“Really. We should sneak out of the palace sometime and go drink artisanal coffee. It’s _so_ much better than this. And made with care and precision.”

Jihoon’s eyebrow _almost_ twitched. “Oh?”

“I used to date a coffee master, back in China.”

“Oh.”

A very awkward silence fell as that sank in. The princess had been dating a barista in China before giving it up to come meet _him_. The failure. The _omega_.

“Don’t worry about it,” she eventually smiled. “No biggie.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Okay, now. Which of these pastries goes well with bean water?”

“Bean water _with cream_ ,” the Prince corrected.

“Bean water _with_ cream,” she accepted with a grin.

  


Princess Hayi was unbearable easy to talk to; after that, she didn’t let a moment’s awkward silence pass. She detested protocol, manners, extreme politeness, fitting inside the box, and most of all, journalists. She could have talked for days on how much she despised journalists.

She almost reminded her brother of Nana one moment, and of Lizzy the next; she was a precise amalgam of Lizzy’s exuberant energy and happy outlook, and Nana’s refined thought and conversation. It was surprising, but the moment Jihoon forgot he had to actually _marry_ her, he actually enjoyed sitting on the lawn listening to her talk.

“What do you _want_ , Doogi? Sorry.” Hayi bent down to pick up the nervous Pomeranian off the grass and onto the white towel on her lap. “What’s got you so upset, hmm? You little fluffy masterpiece?”

A very loud whip crack answered her question, making both the young Royals freeze. Within seconds, the rain was pouring.

“Oh damn!” Jihoon scowled. “We stayed out too late. Joshua did _say_ it would rain.”

“Oh well,” Hayi grinned. “Can’t always do things by the rules. Will it last long?”

The Prince peeked out the underside of the marquis tent. “Looks like it. There’s black on the horizon as far as it stretches, and I don’t think the tent will hold that long.”

She very promptly stood up out of her chair, took off her ridiculous pink hat, and stretched a little. “I suppose we’ll have to make a run for it, then.”

“A run for it?” Jihoon stood to match her. “By the time we get around to the port you’ll be soaked through!”

“So?” She carefully took off her shoes – kitten heels. Despicable things. Right up there with journalists and reporters. “Don’t you ever just want to walk in the rain? It’s great. You’ll feel refreshed. Besides, it’s only a little water. Water can’t hurt handsome men.”

The Prince turned away from the soaked reporters to raise one eyebrow. “Ouran High School Host Club?”

The Princess grinned broadly and ducked forward to take the Prince’s hand. “We can’t stay here forever. Let’s go!” And before Jihoon could make sense of what was going on, he was being tugged into the storm after a giggling princess and her small dog, grass squelching underfoot.

It was probably the best sixty seconds he’d ever spent on palace grounds.


	15. Undercover Royals

“Jihoon. I hear you were rather unhospitable to our guest.”

A silence fell upon the room as the spoon on its way to Jihoon’s mouth froze.

“Got her _entirely_ drenched through in the rain. Made her walk without her shoes or hat! What do you have to say for yourself?”

Jihoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the spoon to continue to his mouth.

“Oh, Queen Dowager, please don’t be upset with Hoonie,” Hayi broke in her own, bubbly way. “It was my idea. I wanted to run in the rain.”

“Oh, nonsense, dear.” The Queen Dowager patted Hayi’s hand condescendingly. “Jihoon should have looked out for you and been more careful. You should never have been out on the lawn for that long. I’m _sure_ he’ll be able to make it up to you someday, won’t you, Jihoon?”

The sharp edge of his mother’s tone almost made him cringe. _Almost._ “Of course,” he responded coolly.

“In fact, mother,” Joshua intervened, “Jihoon is planning on taking Hayi out tomorrow. To the City zoo.”

“The city _zoo?!_ ” The woman’s shrill voice made more than one royal at the dinner table cringe. “ _She_ is a Princess! You think you can just take her to some dirty little street and show her some… some… _otters_?! Jihoon! What do you have to say for yourself!”

The Dark Prince raised his head and turned it to the Queen Dowager, though never looking directly at her. “I would have to say that it was Joshua’s idea first.”

The woman mellowed a little at that. “Joshua, really, a zoo is no place for a Princess.”

“Oh, no, Queen Dowager please!” Hayi’s tone was so _precisely_ desperate that Jihoon almost believed the façade for a moment. “I’d _love_ to go to the zoo. I love animals! I hear you have elephants and tigers and even seals. I’d _love_ to go see them! I only ever went to our Imperial Zoo _once_ when I was very young. Please?”

“Oh, look at you. Aren’t you a darling poppet?”

Hayi preened kindly.

 _What an excellent actress,_ Jihoon thought to himself. _Absolutely exquisite._

“Jihoon!”

His mother’s sharp tone made him jump, almost causing him to throw his spoon into the bowl with a clang.

“You will be the most _gracious_ host to our beautiful guest tomorrow. Do you understand?”

“Of course.”

“Oh, Joshua, I do worry so about them. You’ll make sure they are properly outfitted?”

“They will have a bodyguard each and a team standing by just in case, of course. The Princess’ safety is most vital.” Joshua gave a bright smile. “And Jeonghan will be their chaperone, of course.”

Jeonghan almost choked on a shrimp. “Sorry?”

“You remember. I asked you.” The look Joshua gave his twin brother was one that was clearly announced his willingness to murder the poor Prince if he dared to contradict. “You said you’d love to.”

Jeonghan swallowed. “Oh. Yes, yes of course. Don’t worry, mother.”

The Queen Dowager _harrumphed_.

  


“Oh my _God_.” Hayi pulled a face of true annoyance, sitting in a chair with no decorum whatsoever. “What is her _deal_? She’s crazy!”

Jihoon sat down opposite his new Princess. “Tell me about it.”

“Like… shit. I thought _my_ mom could be a bitch. Holy cow!”

“We used to blame it on post-natal depression,” Jun announced, floating to the drinks cupboard in the room immediately. “Then we called it menopause. Now… who knows?”

“The lady is _crazyyyyy_ ,” Jeonghan hissed comically, sliding past the princess to sit in the chair next to her.

Hayi laughed a little.

“Boys.” Joshua shook his head slightly, making way for his Uncle Heechul to enter the drawing room. “Try and be kind. I know she’s not easy to live with, but we have to try and deal with it.”

Uncle Heechul put a heavy hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “You alright?”

The Prince nodded once. “Don’t worry, Uncle Hee. I’m okay.”

“So, the zoo!” Hayi pulled her feet up out of her shoes, tucking them under her body on the chair. “Are we really going?”

“If you like,” Joshua offered.

“I want to! It’ll be fun.”

“I can think of more things that would be _fun_ ,” Jeonghan breathed, leaning in to the princess.

“ _Jeonghan_ ,” everybody in the room chorused.

“Alright, alright.”

Shannon briefly looked up from her mobile phone. “Jeonghan, I was in your room today. I’ve got dirt on you. Don’t annoy my new sister.”

The men in the room froze, turning to the twelve-year-old. Between them, it was no secret what kind of items lay in Jeonghan’s room. They weren’t the kind of things you wanted a young princess learning of.

“Shannon.” Jeonghan was most scared of them all. “…what exactly did you find?”

“Oh, not the stuff in the big black box.” She waved a hand, texting and speaking at the same time. “I already _know_ what’s in there.”

“Shannon!” Joshua hissed.

“Young lady!” her Uncle added.

“No, I mean the tiny golden music box you keep in the-”

“Alright!” Jeonghan stood, gripping his little sister by the wrists. “It’s time that my baby sister and I had a little chat. If you’ll _all_ excuse us!”

Hayi laughed as Jeonghan dragged Shannon out of the room. “It’s really lovely. The way you all are. So… familial? You’re very relaxed with each other.”

“The boys should have more decorum in the presence of a Princess,” Uncle Hee murmured. “My dear, could I offer you a cup of tea or coffee?”

“Some coffee would be lovely, thank you. And I’m not that kind of Princess, so don’t worry.”

Jihoon almost smiled. Almost.

“Hey Hayi.” Jun turned, whiskey on the rocks in his hand. “Do you know any games?”

“Games?”

“It’s like, eight o’ clock. Nobody’s going to bed in this room for another four hours, at least, and I’ll get bored out of my mind with this lot.” Jun motioned at all his brothers in one sweep of the arm. “So, do you know any games? Card games, board games, _Settlers of Catan_ , anything?”

She thought about it a moment. “I can play a few card and board games… but my favorite is Citadels.”

The brothers all looked up at the Princess in unison.

“ _Citadels?_ ” Jun repeated.

“Yes. Do you know it?” The Princess blushed at the sudden attention.

Joshua jumped out of his seat. “I’ll grab the cards!”

“I’ve got golden pieces!” Jihoon added, jumping up to games cupboard.

Uncle Hee simply took the seat beside the Princess, handing her a cup of coffee with a fond smile. “Now you’ve unleashed the beast,” he grinned. “You’ll enjoy this. There’s little as amusing as watching a handful of Princes play a game of intrigue, secrets and back-stabbing.”

Hayi grinned. “I’m the champion in my family.”

“Jihoon’s the champion in ours.” He held up his drink a moment. “The most excellent poker face ever seen on the face of the planet.”

Hayi looked up from her coffee. “I don’t doubt that.”

  


Going to the zoo was a surprisingly enjoyable experience. Jihoon had never been, so the two stood with bodyguards flanking them at the small aquarium, Hayi pointed at elephants and tigers and made noises at the various birds, and they drank coffee and bean water at the café.

It was also rather safe to say that their appearance in the city zoo made quite the splash amongst visitors and general public.

Jihoon was in full uniform – as he disliked wearing casual clothes when in Prince Mode – and Hayi was dressed in a beautiful deep blue dress to her knees that brought out the richness of her curly hair. They were a surprising pair to see, cooing at lions: a beautiful, energetic and expressive young Princess paired with what seemed to be a cold, emotionless soldier.

Hayi didn’t mind. She was too busy cooing at the flamingos.

  


“What’s this?”

“Butterfly garden,” Jihoon answered kindly, taking her by the wrist to lead her through the plastic curtains. “All the rare butterflies and moths will be in here.”

“Wow.” The Princess stared at the gardens around her for a moment, watching half the world seem to flutter by, before she inhaled and gripped Jihoon suddenly. “I can’t be here.”

“What?”

“I can’t _breathe_ ,” she whispered in the humid garden. “Jihoon. I can’t _breathe_.”

“Alright.” The Prince led her back out of the garden, but the sudden flurry of paparazzi was too much for a choking princess: he gripped her and pulled her along down into a little dark alleyway, allowing her to stand for a moment.

Hayi stood there, bent over slightly, lungs heaving for air. Her face had gone entirely white, and now it was entirely pink with exertion. When her breaths began to assume a squeaky tinge, Jihoon leaned in.

Somehow, they had managed to shake their bodyguards _and_ Jeonghan, who had been far too busy flirting with one of the zookeepers to stay with them for more than twenty minutes.

“Hayi. Hayi.”

“Sorry I just – I have – I have asthma,” she heaved. “I can’t…”

“You can breathe.” Even Jihoon could feel how much lighter the air out was. “Hayi, straighten up and take elongated breaths. You were only in there for a single second. Was it enough to give you a full attack?”

The princess straightened, shaking her head lightly. “No. Dizzy.”

Jihoon pressed his back to the alley-way wall and sank until he was standing: he petted his lap, and allowed the Princess to sit in his lap. “There. Deeeeeep elongated breaths. All the way down to your toes. Feeling better?”

It took her a moment, but she slowly nodded.

“Good. Oh look.” Jihoon pulled a face. “Wonwoo! Nice catching up there.”

“God, you’re a runner,” Wonwoo muttered, leaning over to get his breath back. “Are you okay?”

“We’re both fine.”

“Getting _cozy_ ,” Shownu, the other bodyguard smirked.

“Know your place,” Hayi snapped.

The three men backed away a little from the young girl.

“Sorry,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Just… a bit tired.”

“Then I think it’s time to go back to the palace, hm?”

She nodded. “Agreed.”

  


“Look-ey-who-we-have-here!” Seungcheol cooed happily. “It’s my beautifullest, most _lovely_ boyfriend Woozi!”

The boy pricked his latte foam art with a toothpick one more time before sliding it over to his customer and looking up with a wide grin. “Hey Cheollie!”

They both leaned in for a happy kiss, giggling at each other.

“Woozi,” Soonyoung cooed as a reminder. “Orders.”

“Right.” Jihoon took about ten to-go cups off one counter and took them to another counter, filling each with some non-descript syrup. “Anything to drink, handsome?”

“I’d like a _Mocha Delight_ , please.”

“Sure.”

Seungcheol had to leave swiftly – he had left his kid brother in charge of the store again – and Jihoon finished the coffee orders just in time for Seungkwan to come pick them up, setting them gently in the box on his scooter to be taken away. When he returned to the shop, Soonyoung was helping a customer.

“A Blue Mountain? It’s got a more faint taste than regular coffee. Our top barista always recommends a strawberry shortcake with it, if you have a sweet tooth.”

“Then I’d like that one please!” The girl grinned up at the alpha at the counter, and watched Soonyoung prepare the coffee casually. She asked all kinds of questions – about slow drip and filters and such – until Soonyoung chuckled.

“I think I should ask my top barista. He’s the truest artisan of all coffees that you’ll ever know. Woozi! Come over here. We have a coffee-lover on our hands!”

Jihoon wiped his hands on his apron, coming forward with a grin on his face as wide as a Cheshire cat’s. “That so? I love it when people share my love of coffee.”

The lady in the sunglasses grinned back. “S-ooooonyoung here tells me you’re the top barista in the country!”

“Soonyoungie exaggerates,” Jihoon grinned. “But maybe the top barista in this district.”

“That so?”

“That’s so!”

The two smiled at each other until suddenly, Jihoon’s smile dropped off his face and his eyes bulged. “Oh my God,” he whispered. “What the fuck?”

Hayi took her sunglasses off in shock, and a bit of embarrassment. “Hoonie!”


	16. Best Friends

 Jihoon and Hayi stared at each other, locked up in the back room. Hayi was wearing simple jeans and a plain black t-shirt, hair bundled up in a quick ponytail. There was nothing about her that screamed Princess at all.

Jihoon was very similar. Jeans and a white t-shirt with his apron around his waist.

“Well, this is awkward.”

Hayi simply stared, leaning in a little. “It's... it's absolutely uncanny. You look _nothing_ like... you. I mean. It's different. This and that. I mean...”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Jihoon folded his arms awkwardly.

“I mean, your smile is so handsome! And your eyes are so light! And you're _nothing_ like that in the palace!”

“The palace gives me no reason to smile,” the Dark Prince answered.

She thought about that for a moment. “Oh.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sneaking out of the palace in order to get some artisanal coffee.” Hayi folded her arms too. “You won't tell anybody, will you?”

Jihoon gave her a look. “I literally spend all my time pretending not to be a Royal. I can't blame you for hopping out for something better than _bean water with cream_.”

“So this is where you work, huh? I guess that's why Joshua said you wouldn't be around until next week.”

“Yup.”

Hayi stood for a while, thinking about it. “Can I stay?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I stay? And have some of your artisanal coffee?” She looked up, a little shy. “I really do want to try it. And I feel like I'll be safe here, with you.”

Jihoon took a deep breath. “Sure. We'll have to come up with a story to tell people though. Everybody around here thinks I'm a normal guy.” He stretched his arms far above his head. “I told everybody that Wonwoo is my cousin, he was here for a while. You can be his little sister if you like?”

Hayi broke out into a happy grin. “Sounds good to me!”

Jihoon grinned back, and pretended not to notice how shocked the Princess was at the change. “Then let's get you a cup of coffee, hm?”

  
  


“This is Woozi's cousin, Ha-”

“Hayeon.”

Jihoon ran for it, but it was far too late: Seungcheol shook her hand kindly. “Hey there, I'm Seungcheol. Woozi's boyfriend.”

Credit to the young Princess: she really was a born and bred actress. Nobody would have noticed the shadow cross her eyes for the split second it was there. “Ah, so you're the boyfriend!”

“Hey Woozi.” Seungcheol waved. “You didn't tell me Wonwoo had a baby sister!”

“Yes I did.”

“No you didn't!”

“I totally did!”

“Did you? I forgot. I'm sorry.” The florist smiled gently. “I just came by to ask if I left my glasses at your place. I can't find them.”

“Your reading glasses? Let me go up and check, alright?” The barista turned so only the Princess could see his urgent expression. “You two be nice to each other, alright?”

“Don't worry, I'll tease him lots.” Hayi winked, but there was a measure of seriousness in her eyes. At least she was taking the need for secrecy seriously. Whatever trouble this got him into later... well, that was that.

Jihoon made the trip very speedily, as quick as was humanly possible: unfortuantely, by the time he was back, Hayi and Seungcheol were already having coffee and laughing together in a small booth.

“Here. Cheollie. Your glasses.”

“Thanks babe,” the man chuckled, taking the glasses and standing. “I have to go, but I'll definitely see you again, Hayeon! Your cousins are great, Woozi.” Cheol leaned down to peck the barista on the cheek. “I'll see you later, love.”

“S-see ya.”

Once he was gone, Jihoon slowly turned back to Hayi, afeared for his life.

The young Princess smiled. “I'm not mad, Hoonie.”

He pulled an expression of complete shock. “I'm sorry?”

“How could I be? He's very charming. Grab a coffee, it's time for your lunch break, sit down and tell me everything. Don't worry so much.”

Jihoon went to get a cup of tea and sat down opposite the Princess, blushing red in embarrassment. “I... I don't know what to tell you.”

“I'm not angry, Hoonie. You can just say it.”

“I tried to tell him everything a few days ago.” Jihoon pulled a fierce scowl on his face. “He didn't believe me when I told him I'm a prince.”

“...didn't _believe_ you?” Hayi giggled. “How thick? I mean... I've only known you for a few days and I recognized you pretty damn quick.”

“He's an idiot,” Jihoon smiled, staring at his tea. “A beautiful, perfect, wonderful idiot.”

Hayi smiled, a little sadly. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“This. Us. Because of how things are, you can't be straight with him and tell him everything.” Hayi finished her coffee. “I'm sorry. It must be causing a strain on your relationship. Wanting to tell him, but not having him believe... must be tough.”

“Really tough.” Jihoon pulled a face. “No offense, Hayi. You're very pretty and very lovely. But he...” The barista bit his lip, unable to continue for a moment.

“He's your everything.” Hayi nodded once, a sad smile still on her face. “It's okay. I understand that better than you might think. And I would never want to disrupt something like that.”

The barista could only stare, uncomprehending.

“Well, when we get married... I don't expect you and I to be monagomous to each other. I just don't think our arranged marriage could work that way.” The way she tossed her hair back was very similar to Nana's manner when _she_ was being logical. “You're lovely, Hoonie, really. But we could neverrr...”

Jihoon pulled a face at her tone. At what she was _insiuating_. “No, you're right.”

“So? Are we just to give up on all happiness for the rest of forever?” She folded her arms with a smile. “I don't think so. I want you and that guy to be happy together. Now. Later. When we're married. When we're old. I don't mind any of it, really I don't. I knew that was a possiblity from the first time my father mentioned it to me. I'm not an idiot, you know. I think we could have a very amicable life together, as man and wife, being... friends, perhaps? Good friends.”

Jihoon coughed out a chuckle, looking up. “I never would have imagined you to be so... understanding.”

“I'm not an _idiot_ , Jihoonie.”

“What about children?”

“What, you think you're the only good-looking man in the whole world with a cock and seed?” Hayi laughed. “I'm sure if I really want children I'll have them some way or another.”

Jihoon went bright red. “I'm not used to Princesses like you,” he admitted lowly.

“That's cause there aren't any Princesses like me.” Hayi winked. “Let's be honest with each other here, Jihoonie. Neither of us wants to get married. We both have a duty, to our families and our countries. But duty and heart rarely coincide, and I don't see why they should _have_ to. I like you. I think we could be very good friends in the end of it all. It just means we have to put on our acting faces every time a camera appears.”

The prince stared at his hands. “Would you really be okay with that? A sham of a marriage? A sham of a _life_?”

“...you of all people should know that being Royalty means living a sham. Living a lie, a – a farce. Every time you put gel in your hair and don the blue uniform, you're faking it to the world.” Hayi's dark eyes were full of wisdom and empathy – so much so it took Jihoon's breath away a little. “In China, they called me the sweetheart princess of the family. The good, gentle, doting one that never has a hair or word out of place.”

The Dark Prince thought about it. “You _are_ _**the**_ most formidable actress I've ever met,” he admitted.

Hayi grinned. “I'd like to be friends with you, Jihoonie. It's better than having to pretend in front of _you_ , too.”

It took him a moment. “Yeah,” he answered. “I'd like to be friends with you, too. Hayi.”

The two young adults stared at each other for a moment.

In that moment, they both settled how things were in their minds. They would be friends, pretending to be lovers, pretending to be a _couple_ , faking it in front of the whole world. They would be giving up a lot for each other. For their countries. They would be committing the ultimate sacrifice. And they were determined to do it.

“...more coffee?”

“Yes please.” Hayi sat back happily. “What beverage would my master barista recommend?”

“Hm. Let me slow-drip you a Colombian Black.”

“Ooh. Sounds good.”

“Doesn't it?” Jihoon led his Princess back to the counter. “It's a slap to the face worth of a wake-up call. Hey, Hayi?”

“Yes?” She took a seat at the counter.

Jihoon smiled tentatively. “Thanks for not blabbing to Cheol. And... thank you for allowing me to see him.”

Hayi chuckled. “Dear Jihoonie, I am an _romantic_ at heart. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”

“I'll drink to that,” Jihoon chuckled. “A lot of Disney growing up, huh?”

“ _So_ much Disney,” she grinned back. “But it was worth it.”

  
  


“Well, I want you to see something.”

“It's a beautiful day out! Especially for April. I want to do things _outside_.” Jihoon whined a little, allowing himself to be dragged up into Seungcheol's building.

The florist simply smiled. “I'll be leaving for _another_ two weeks to Busan to help oversee the gardens being planted. I simply want to spend what little time I have left with you, and I have a special surprise planned. _Please_ just be good? Just for a little while.”

The boy was putty in his boyfriend's hands. “Fine.”

The sight of Seungcheol's apartment made Jihoon gasp; every still surface was absolutely _covered_ in flowers. The ground was covered, save a set of small pathways, with petals: the sofa, the TV, everything was shielded by hundreds and hundreds of beautifully bright multi-colored peony roses.

“Oh my God.”

“You told me peonies were your favorite,” Seungcheol said quietly. “There's fourteen hundred in here. That's 100 peonies for every day that I can't be with you.”

“Seungcheol,” Jihoon whispered.

The florist smiled gently. “Do you like them?”

“ _Like_ them?!” Jihoon turned to hug his boyfriend tightly. “Seungcheol, I _love_ them. I love _you_. You're the best.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “I love you too, baby. I want you to remember while I'm gone that you're the only person I love – the only one I've ever loved – and the most important thing in my world now. Alright?”

“...alright.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” Jihoon smiled up, searching for a warm kiss. “Do you know what I'm interested in seeing?”

“And what's that?”

“What your bed looks like with peony petals on it.” Jihoon ran from his boyfriend to jump and flop down in a flurry of petals, letting them dance in the air. He pulled himself up on all fours, arching his back a little. “It's _lovely_.”

Seungcheol closed the bedroom door behind him with a soft, almost sheepish smile. Jihoon could be so different when he was seducing him. “Do you know what's even lovelier, Jihoonie?”

“What's even lovelier?” The boy wiggled a little, leaning forward but glancing over his shoulder. “Is it... me?”

Seungcheol's hands glided around the tight seams of Jihoon's jeans, getting a good feel of what was there. “Could be,” he teased, moving around to kiss the barista. “I might not tell you.”

“Why not?” Jihoon pouted, making sure to straddle his boyfriend's lap properly. It almost felt a little slutty, but definitely very sexy. “I deserve to know.”

Seungcheol's hands folded under Jihoon's ass, holding a perfect seat for him there. “Do you now?” he smirked teasingly. “Even when you're seducing me like this?”

“Do I suck at it?”

“Nu-uh.” Seungcheol grinned, leaning in for another kiss. “You're perfect.”

  
  


“Dino, you can't play that card.”

“Why _not_?!” The boy threw his cards down, frustrated. “I don't understand any of these rules! I'm _bye_!”

Jihoon, Shannon and Hayi had to hold in giggles.

“Alright, we'll play a game you do know then.”

“Texas hold 'em?”

Jihoon froze, turning to his little brother. “Who... _exactly_... taught you how to play Texas Hold 'Em?”

The youngest Prince froze. “...Jun hyung.”

“I'm going to kill him.” Jihoon stood. “I'm actually going to murder his ass for teaching my brother how to bet playing poker oh my-”

“Sit _down_ ,” Hayi smiled.

Shannon checked her phone. “Actually, it's two. Joshua said we had to go see him now.”

“Go on then, don't be late,” Hayi smiled. She watched the two young children bounce off to their older brother's office down the hall. “They certainly are lively.”

Jihoon started to gather the playing cards. “I love those two kids. Especially Dino. I've never loved anybody as much as I love that little boy. And I don't think he loves anybody as much as me, either.”

“That's nice,” the Princess smiled. “That you're so close.”

“...I just want my baby brother to have a good life.” Jihoon sighed, packing the cards away and setting the box on the dark wooden table. “I want him to smile in the sun and ride a bike and go out and experience the world. You know? I want him to have a good life, Hayi.”

The princess smiled at the doorway, where the two children had disappeared to. “Yeah. I can understand that.”

“I always thought you were very understanding,” the Prince teased.

“Shut _up_ ,” Hayi grinned, pinching Jihoon's arm kindly. “How's Cheol doing in Busan?”

“He's wrecked. He works very hard. I think this is the project to start his career, so he's very busy.”

“Well, that's good.” Hayi patted Jihoon's shoulder. “Time for tea. You coming?”

“Tea?” The boy sat up and nodded. “Sure.”


	17. Soulmates

The first few days of April turned into the last few days of April. The last few days of April turned into the last week of May.

Every time Seungcheol’s big brown eyes were in range – lovely, round, full, so trusting, so _naïve_ and _kind_ and _good_ , Jihoon just couldn’t try again. Seungcheol had chosen not to believe him. And someday it was going to come back and bite him in the butt.

But why did it have to bite him _like this_? This was, possibly, the worst thing to ever have happened to him in his adult life.

Jihoon stared at the large sapphire, enclosed in a flurry of tiny, exquisite diamonds. The object was ostentatious, huge, and perfectly royal. It had been in the family for hundreds of years, and it had been seated on many a Royal.

Jihoon closed the box again after a quiet moment of contemplation, sat back and gently shut his eyes. “When?”

“…China doesn’t like dallying. But they do like romance. It’s got to be a big event, really romantic, make a _splash_ , in front of a large crowd.”

The message wasn’t getting to him. “Yes?”

“…we’ve all agreed it’s going to be on the first day of the Great Garden’s opening.”

Jihoon’s face crumpled: his eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, wrinkles appeared in his skin and he pulled his legs up, burying his face in his lap. _No. No, no, no, no. So soon. Why is it so soon? Why does it have to be so soon?_

“I’m sorry,” Joshua whispered.

Jihoon could tell his thirty-five-year-old brother was crying, but he couldn’t move.

“I’m so sorry, baby brother. I know what this must be doing to you. What this… How it… God, please.” Joshua burst out into tears. “Please. Forgive me, brother.”

“There’s nothing you can do.” The cold, unattached, lifeless tone of Jihoon’s voice just pushed his brother to more tears. “There’s nothing to be done. This is how it is.”

Joshua’s entire face was red when Jihoon looked back up. His eyes were rimming with red, mouth curled into an ugly grimace.

“I love you, Jihoonie.”

“I know,” the boy answered. There was no change in his automated tone, no change of expression.

“I don’t want to hurt you like this.”

“…it’s alright. It’s my duty. I am a prince. It is my duty.” Jihoon looked over at a door. “…who knows how many I could save, if I prevent war?” he whispered. “Thousands of lives, spared, at the expense of my own.”

Joshua hid his face behind his hands. “I hate me.”

Jihoon took a deep breath. “I don’t.”

“Well, you should!” Joshua’s fists both came down on the table between them. “What was the point of it all, anyway, then? Hmph?! What was the point then, of you being born an omega? What was the point of the _torture_ you endured as a child?! Of what we _all_ endured having to watch? What was the point of you being able to leave, if I just have to drag you back?!”

Jihoon waited until his brother had finished ranting.

“I like Hayi,” the Dark Prince said softly, looking at the table. “I adore her. She’s possibly one of the loveliest people I’ve ever known. She’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had. We talk about anything and everything. We already decided that our relationship would become and stay that way. I guess the point of me being able to leave… well.” The corners of Jihoon’s mouth twitched up to the most pathetic, the _saddest_ smile the boy had ever shown. “At least I was free for five years. The best five years of my life. I’m grateful for every single day of that time.”

“It’s not fair!” Joshua screamed.

Jihoon waited until the sound dimmed. “No,” he answered quietly. “It’s not fair. Nothing ever is, for a Royal. Hayi taught me that.”

Joshua looked away.

“She learned that, herself, when her family rejected her because she can’t have children naturally.” There was a moment of silence. “It took her a while to tell me that. She needs IVF in order to have children. I didn’t ask for specifics. And I shouldn’t have told you. But… I think if it’s Hayi… then I can probably survive.”

Joshua’s tears had slowed to a drip. “…you really love Hayi, don’t you?”

“She’s like a sister to me. Just as much as Nana and Yoonjo and Shannon.” Jihoon stared at the little blue suede box on the table. “And we’ve talked about how we’ll live together. She’s a very… good person. Not light – though she can seem light. She’s not bubbly and dim-witted, not really. She’s very deep, and very regal, and very grounded. But she doesn’t _care_ – everything she does, every move she makes is one in pursuit of happiness. And she doesn’t care who sees her do it. You know my love for Dino.”

“Insurmountable,” Joshua interceded.

“Yes. I’ll never love anybody the way I love him. But… just as I wish for him to have a full and beautiful life, I wish the same for Hayi.”

“…I see.”

The only face in Jihoon’s mind was Seungcheol’s. His name, his face, the touch of his hands, the heat of his body, the sound of his voice, the angel’s touch of his lips. The pain this would bring him. The way it would rip through his body.

“I’ll do it on one condition,” the Dark Prince whispered.

“…anything. I’ll give you anything, baby brother.”

“…in China, there is a barista by the name of Wu Yifan.” Jihoon looked up with a deadly, cold set of eyes. “He’s to be installed in the palace kitchens as an employee for the rest of Hayi’s life. He’ll be here before the wedding.”

“…we can’t kidnap a man-”

“Make him a job offer he can’t refuse.” Jihoon didn’t even move. “He knows Hayi is here. It won’t take much.”

Joshua considered it for a moment. “This Wu guy… this is your way of making Hayi happy?”

Jihoon didn’t answer. He simply looked at the inoffensive suede box once, and back up to his brother.

Joshua nodded. “…a deal’s a deal, Jihoonie.”

Jihoon got up to leave.

“Jihoon?”

He turned.

Joshua nodded at the table. “Don’t forget the ring.”

 

Seungcheol’s fingers smoothed over the lines in Jihoon’s forehead. “I don’t think that wellness center you’re going to is making you even a bit better. I’d say it’s just stressing you out more.”

The poor barista gave his boyfriend a weak smile. “I can’t believe you’re leaving again.”

“I know. It sucks. Next project I take on will be closer to home. Promise.” Seungcheol’s lips glided over Jihoon’s temple, kissing him sweetly. “So I can come home to you. And your _delicious_ cooking.”

Jihoon snorted, giving the florist a sheepish look. “Sorry I burned the noodles.”

“That’s alright. At least the sauce was good.” Seungcheol began to laugh. “Good enough to hide the taste of the burnt noodles.”

Jihoon elbowed him in the ribs gently, pulling a face.

“It’s alright, baby. I love you.” Seungcheol curled his legs around Jihoon and his arms around the boy’s torso, caging him in. “I’ve got you now!”

“Yah!” Jihoon laughed, trying to squirm away futilely. “Leave me be!”

“Let’s go out for a walk.” Seungcheol released his small prisoner and moved to grab his coat. “It’s a nice evening.”

“Agreed!” Jihoon shrugged his coat on, slipped into his shoes and held Seungcheol’s hand very tightly as he was pulled out of the apartment to take a walk to the park. “…hey, Cheollie?”

“Yes?” The alpha put his arm around his omega’s waist comfortingly.

“…you love me, right?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Of course.”

“And you know me pretty well, too.”

“Indeed.” The alpha waited for him to make a point, but he didn’t – they simply walked on and on as the sun cast a golden glow on them, one last spot of heat before it went past the city lines.

Jihoon bent down to pluck a daisy from the grass, staring at it. “I like flowers,” he said quietly. “Everything is so… simple. You’re planted, you grow, you bloom, you die. The end.”

The alpha simply stood there, watching his omega with a fond smile. The boy was so gentle at times – so lovely – and so abrasive at others, but no matter what, he was always _Jihoon_. He was such a happy person, bright and glowing in his very own brand of sunlight. Like an angel God had given to him personally.

“I love you,” Jihoon said quietly.

“I love you too.”

Jihoon gripped his hand and pulled him to a bench. “I need to… um.”

Seungcheol laughed. “Don’t give yourself an ulcer. Just tell me.”

Jihoon closed his eyes, letting the breeze tousle his hair. He had to get this right. This was his last chance he would have to get this right before the entire world became so, so wrong. “I love you. That’s… more than just words. There’s nothing in my world that’s like you. You’re home. You’re safe and happy and freedom. There is nobody I love the way I love you.”

Seungcheol simply listened.

“I imagine our future together. A lot.” Jihoon gulped. “I imagine us, old, sitting in two chairs with coffee. I imagine us with kids, and their grandkids, and I imagine us having lived our lives together, happy. I imagine us sitting with our hands entwined, chuckling over the day Lizzy poured coffee down your shirt. I imagine us loving each other, irrevocably, forever.”

A silence fell, where Jihoon wasn’t sure if he could continue.

“…I’d like a future like that,” Seungcheol said softly, reaching to take Jihoon’s hand in his.

“…I want you to know that that future is _everything_ I could possibly want. Everything I didn’t know I could want, but everything I yearn for.” The barista opened his eyes, staring into Seungcheol’s eyes. “I want you to know that what I feel for you is one of the strongest things I’ve ever felt. I want you to know that I’ve bound myself to you in every way I can imagine, and that I genuinely believe you are the only person who can ever make me happy.”

Seungcheol could only smile.

“I want you to look in my eyes and _never, ever_ forget it. Not even for one second. No matter what happens in Busan. This, what I am telling you right now, is the truth. And if you ever hear anything else, if you see anything else, entirely regardless of who it comes from: you need to know that what I’m telling you now is the truth. The only truth. As far as I’m concerned, you are my soulmate, for now and for forever.”

Seungcheol leaned in until their foreheads were touching. “Jihoon. I love you. In all the same ways. You worded it perfectly.”

“Don’t forget it,” the boy warned. “Not for a single second.”

“For the entire time that I am in Busan,” Seungcheol said quietly, “I will not, even for a second, forget this. You are my soulmate, Jihoon. I’m blessed by your existence.”

“Don’t forget.”

“I won’t forget.” Seungcheol smiled, taking his omega’s face in his hands and kissing him sweetly. “I won’t forget, darling.”

“No matter what happens in Busan.”

Seungcheol’s eyes slid closed with a content smile. “Nothing’s going to happen in Busan.”

“No matter what!”

The alpha gave him. “No matter what.”

Jihoon seemed mollified enough by that. “Good. One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“…look at me.” The omega waited. “Do you know my eyes?”

The florist thought about it. “A wise man once told me that the eye is the gateway to the soul, and through the eye, a practiced man may see many things. I can see your soul, Jihoon. And it’s beautiful. It’s blazing bright, like fire and gold.”

“Good.” Jihoon couldn’t look away. “Would you recognize these eyes anywhere?”

“Anywhere,” Seungcheol swore. “No matter where you were, I would find you.”

Jihoon clenched his eyes shut and hugged his boyfriend. “I love you, Cheollie.” And foolishly, he began to cry. “I just love you so much. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Hey.” Seungcheol laughed freely, hugging his Jihoon close. “Don’t worry, baby. What do you think is going to happen in Busan? Are you scared again that the Prince will seduce me? Don’t worry about anything. I belong to you. I’m your soulmate, remember?” His lips brushed Woozi’s hair. “You will never lose me.”

“Do you promise?” A pang of guilt went through him: he was making Seungcheol promise something he knew could not be kept.

“I promise.”

 

Seungcheol left the next morning for a week of final preparations on the Great Gardens of the Busan Palace. After that week, Jihoon had made a vague excuse about not getting out of that work, while the Dark Prince and the darling Princess Hayi would fly off to Busan for the Grand Opening.

But before that, there was one more thing to do.

Jihoon had never seen Wonwoo so antsy before. In fact, most of the guards were jittery. Nobody could really shake the feeling they had the last time this procession went down.

Jihoon stood ceremoniously, Hayi sitting up in the rafters on a plush red cushion somewhere. He felt like he needed his eyes on everybody. All his brothers. Hayi. And the man at the end of the hall.

Tension grew when Joshua made it half-way down the aisle.

He kept walking, kept going.

Joshua made it all the way to the throne.

Joshua made it all the way through the priest’s chants.

Joshua made it all the way through his vows.

Joshua made it through his anointment.

And then suddenly, Joshua was King, and he hadn’t died.

 

There was a party, back at the palace: Joshua was, unfortunately, not allowed to participate in parts of the feast that hadn’t already been tried for him. Jihoon gleefully took a huge bite of an apple before offering it to his brother.

“You’re a little shit, Hoonie.”

The Prince winked happily. “I know. You love me.”

“That I do.” The King put an arm around his brother with a little sigh.

Jihoon hugged him with one arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?”

“This will look even worse now, right? You didn’t get offed. Everybody will think you were throne-hungry.”

Joshua shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

“…no, you’re right.” Jihoon watched Hayi and Minhyun dance together on the dance floor, both of them smiling happily. “Nothing can be done. Just… watch yourself.”

Joshua smiled. “I made it all the way to the crown. Nothing they can do now.”

“…yeah.”

“…ready for Friday?”

Jihoon looked at the strong drink Jun had poured him, swirling it a little. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Then he downed the drink in one go, allowing the burn of the alcohol to rush through his body and cure the pain spreading through his heart.


	18. No Matter What Happens in Busan

The plane was entirely quiet. Almost everybody on it was entirely bummed out after all the partying – lying in various positions to sleep softly.

Jihoon couldn’t have slept if he wanted to. Hayi wouldn’t have let him stay awake alone, under any circumstances.

Jihoon simply sat in quiet misery.

Hayi stroked the back of his head; an endearing habit that soothed him a lot. “It’ll be alright,” she cooed gently. “After all… well… he loves you very much. I’m sure that no matter what, it will work out.”

Jihoon couldn’t answer that. He simply stared at nothing.

“Sorry, ma’am? Could we get two cups of tea?”

“Of course your highness.”

He waited until the friendly stewardess was out of range before leaning over to his Princess. “I thought you preferred coffee?”

Hayi gave him a look. “Your palace baristas can’t even make decent coffee on the ground. You think I want to try pressurized cabin-proof bean water?”

Jihoon let it pass.

The stewardess went back to the front compartment, and the two Royals drank tea together in relative silence.

“So, so I get to know _when_ you’re going to propose, or?”

Jihoon looked at her in faint alarm.

Hayi rolled her eyes. “Joshua already told me. He said to act surprised. Also, the box has been sticking out of your jacket. The form of it, I mean. You can see it’s in your breast pocket.”

“Oh.” Jihoon took the blue suede box from his pocket, fumbling it in his hands. “Do you want to see it?”

“No, no. Keep it a surprise.” Hayi smiled. “I’ll be absolutely _delighted_ with you, my _Hoonie darling_.”

That was almost funny enough to make Jihoon snort. _Almost_.

“My darling, devoted husband.”

“Alright, alright. Keep your lid on.” Jihoon rolled his eyes. “…I guess it’ll be somewhere in the middle of the day. There’ll be lots of journalists around, so _please_ behave.”

Hayi ducked her head around in her haughtily-pretending-to-be-a-perfect-little-young-lady kind of way. “I don’t know _what_ you mean, your highness. I’m an absolute _delight_ , you know I am.”

Jihoon attempted a smile – it was more of a tight grimace – and put his arm around Hayi gently. She cuddled up to him in a very familial way, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re tired. Go to sleep, Hayi.”

“It’s okay. You’re worried about Seungcheol. About whether he finds out today. Whether or not he’ll recognize you. And me. And see you proposing to me today.” Hayi stroked the back of Jihoon’s hand. “But I think he’s very devoted to you. And I think he’ll at least want to talk. He wouldn’t quit you cold turkey.”

Jihoon nodded. “That’s all I can hope for. Even if it’s just one time. Just one more time.”

“Did you say goodbye properly, last week?”

“Yeah.” Jihoon whispered. “Felt like it would be the last time.”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Magic,” Hayi smiled, winking. “I’m a magic fairy. And I can predict the future.”

The barista closed his eyes. “Oh yeah? And what do you see happening in the future?”

Hayi smiled gently. “…both of us getting the person we like most.”

 

Jeonghan ceremoniously cut the ribbon and bowed; the Royal family went in first, taking a good look around at the park that had been so uniquely built for their palace. Within twenty minutes they were in allocated white seats on a large lawn: many seats were there, for ministers and bodyguards and such. In front of them stood a beautiful white Grecian gazebo, its pillars overrun with ivy. Once everybody was seated and reporters stood around taking pictures, Jeonghan leapt up onto the gazebo, taking the microphone that was there.

Jeonghan’s welcome speech was eloquent, just like the Seductful Prince himself. He introduced his five designers – Jihoon pointedly looked down so as not to be recognized by at least _one_ of them – and then everybody was encouraged to explore the six gardens that had been created.

One for every designer, and a central garden in the middle of the pentagon.

Hayi would hear none of touring the gardens in sequence: she practically dragged Jihoon, and therefore both their bodyguards _and_ her Pomeranian, to Choi Seungcheol’s garden.

Each designer had been given half an acre to fill in as they pleased. Seungcheol’s area was full of fragrant, warm flowers and tall, balmy trees that swayed just a little in the breeze. It was an extremely pleasant walk for the two ‘lovers’ to go around and see just how the bushes had been trimmed, and exactly what the formation of tulips was.

But the real show-stopper was the fountain.

It had to span at least seven feet in diameter: it was a triple-tiered perfect circle, with little intricate carving to be found. Instead, floating in the water, stood one huge flower basket, overflowing with peony roses. The bottom tier was pink; the next yellow; the top tier was filled with white peonies, dripping over the edge just right.

Jihoon leaned in and took a deep breath before reading the plaque. The exhibit was simply called _Soulmate_. The little golden card said so.

Jihoon suddenly had to grip Hayi’s hand very hard.

She gave the omega a pitying look and gripped his hand too, rubbing her free palm over his arm. “Shh,” she whispered. “Come. We’d better walk on.”

Seungcheol was a master at what he did. Around every corner there was something else; a bronze statue, a great boulder amassed with hyacinths, a tall oak tree that _had_ to have been there already. He designed the walkway brilliantly, using large, flat flagstones with jagged edges to carve it out.

He made great use of the distance he’d been given: poppies lined the pathway he had created, and they continued in a brilliant line like a never-ending trail of red. Hayi had brought a camera with her, and spent far too much time taking distance pictures of the line of red that never seemed to end. She took pictures of quite a lot of things: the stone-faced prince, her puppy, the sunlight dappling through the trees, anything she possibly could.

“It’s for my scrapbook,” she explained, taking Jihoon’s arm again. “I’m making a timeline of my life. This one will be the day I got…”

Jihoon nodded once. “That’s nice. Maybe I should take some pictures of you?”

“…oh no.”

“Why not?”

The two bickered lightly about it, passing down into another segment of the gardens, created by a different designer. The bushes they walked past all somehow seemed to be in fruit, even those that were out of season; all kinds of berries hung on their branches.

Hayi looked at a blackberry bush, full of longing. “I want to try one!”

Shownu held her back. “You have no idea whether those are edible or not. Please do not make my job harder than it already is.”

“Yeah. I’ve still got some business to settle with you,” Jihoon joked, his face entirely without emotion.

It was, admittedly, a beautiful day for a walk in gardens. The pair spent hours going through each part of the park, pointing out the differences between each designer’s work. Hayi mercifully didn’t compare anything to Seungcheol’s gardens, and the Dark Prince could only be grateful for that.

There were fountains, and ponds, and little lakes with row-boats to take out; there were open fields of a beautiful kind of nothingness, tall hedges, little hedges, flowers, fruit, and trees of innumerable colors and shapes.

The real show-stopper, however, was in the sixth and final garden. It had to be a dozen feet high; a stone pillar set in a cone shape, dripping with flowers; fushia, tulips, poppies, roses, ivy, honeysuckle, violets, lilies, freesia, baby’s breath: if it could still bloom, it was tripping from one of seventy tiers all the way down to the ground.

“It smells _divine_ ,” Hayi sighed, leaning in. “Do you know? Lotus are my favorites.” She pointed to a white flower near the bottom.

“I’ll remember that,” Jihoon told her.

Hayi grinned happily. “White ones.”

“Sure.”

In the middle of their _lovely_ walk, Jihoon stopped, pulling his phone from his pocket.

**Seungcheol:** _[Image attached. Open image?          Yes     No]_

**Seungcheol:** This one’s called Soulmate. It’s all peonies. I miss you, baby. I love you so much. Wish you could be here.

Jihoon smiled happily at his phone for a moment.

 **Jihoon:** I love you too.

Hayi grinned knowingly. “Somebody interesting text you?” She leaned in to whisper. “Somebody you _luuuuuuuuuuurve?_ ”

“Shut up,” Jihoon whispered back, nudging her. His face returned to its stoic, rock-solid appearance. “I hear they’ve got a live orchestra up at the gazebo.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, can’t you hear the violins?” They both stopped and listened for the sweet notes wavering through the air. “Come on.”

All the white chairs still sat where they had originally been; white tables had been set around, filled with party food. Dino was pigging out on carrot sticks and hummus. Minhyun was munching bread sticks.

The designers and Jeonghan were milling around, talking to each other, and reports, and whatnot.

Jihoon was astonished that he could have separated his boyfriend from all the others, just by the back of his heels.

Seungcheol stood with his back to the _happy couple_ , staring at a bouquet of yellow flowers on a table, hands in his pockets.

He was beautiful – Jihoon’s breath was taken away. Seungcheol’s silhouette, in a neat suit, was beautiful. The way his body moved was beautiful. The way the light breeze played with the short strands of hair near his neck was beautiful.

How had he become to intoxicated? So dependant? His entire body was singing for him. He just wanted to dance right up to the otherwise so ordinary florist and hug him. Kiss him. Hold his face and be happy with him.

The looming palace only served to remind him that no matter who was with him, he was trapped. Even if he had Seungcheol there, it wouldn’t be good enough.

And then he turned around.

Jihoon couldn’t stop staring. At first, Seungcheol looked away, embarrassed that the Dark Prince was giving him a glare of despair. Then, something made him glance back, as Hayi unwittingly pulled the Prince forward.

There was confusion in Seungcheol’s eyes; then recognition.

Something in Jihoon made a little _clunk_ sound. Seungcheol was right. He could recognize Jihoon’s eyes anywhere. His very soul.

The florist stood in utter bewilderment, staring at his boyfriend.

On the way past, Jihoon stopped, yanking a little on the Princess to grip Seungcheol’s arm. His fingers were so rock-hard on his bicep, it would certainly bruise.

 _“No matter what happens in Busan,_ ” he whispered hoarsely, still staring the man straight in the eye. And then he could bare it no longer; he felt like his heart would break any moment now. He let his boyfriend go, and took Hayi with him up to the gazebo, to dance slowly to the orchestral music.

The Princess’ face was immaculate, but her tone showed distress. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Just give me a moment,” he croaked out.

They danced with their faces close, for a while: it gave Jihoon a little time and privacy needed to gather his thoughts all together. Then, when he was ready and there was a sufficient crowd watching the Royal couple dance, he stepped back slightly.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, hoping from afar it would look like a love confession. “Do you think we can pull this off together, you and I?”

Hayi smiled a dazzlingly soft smile. “I think we can.”

“And my boyfriend?”

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered.

“Hayi, I love you like a sister. I hope you know that.”

“I love you like a big brother, too. So at least that’s right.”

Jihoon raised his voice, so that he could be heard over the soft music. “Then...” He pulled the box from his pocket and sank down on one knee to reveal the ring.

He sat there, and proclaimed it in front of his family, all the ministers, the bodyguards, the designers, the plethora of journalists, and worst of all, the boyfriend his heart ached to go to.

“Princess Hayi, will you marry me?”

“…I will,” she said.

In the following rush of celebration and photography, Jihoon caught a glimpse of Seungcheol only once.

He was crying.


	19. Too Little, Too Late

“Yeah, yeah. Ren! Where’s that latte?”

“Here!” The alpha twirled around behind the counter, setting down a latte.

“Is Seungkwan back yet?”

“Nope. Five minutes.”

Wonwoo sighed, eyebrows knitting together. He simply went to take a seat in the front of the shop, staring at his boyfriend, _waiting_. The store had become very busy, somehow, without Woozi there to lift it – Wonwoo had booked the days off in advance, allowing Baekho to take his position as Jihoon’s bodyguard for the remainder of his weekend.

Jihoon’s presence – or lack thereof – was sorely felt in the café. He was the main attraction, the star barista: without him, the others were a _little_ bit lost.

Wonwoo watched his steady boyfriend carefully. Or – boyfriend? No, that wasn’t the right word. Soonyoung wasn’t really _there_ yet, with the labelling and holding hands in public.

Dealing with an alpha who hadn’t been in a monogamous relationship in the last fifteen years was a bit of a challenge for the romantically inclined bodyguard. Especially when he – the _omega –_ worked as a bodyguard, and the _alpha_ was a barista. They weren’t the typical couple. But Soonyoung was – after months – still getting used to being in an actual relationship. Whatever kind of relationship it _was_. And yes, the way they did business with each other left Wonwoo feeling lonely and isolated _a lot_. But what could be done? At least he’d obtained Soonyoung, in some form or other. That was enough.

It was just a little upsetting when somebody finally turned the sign on the door to _closed_ , and everything began to calm down. Wonwoo perked up, waiting for his boyfriend to come over.

It didn’t happen.

It wasn’t until Soonyoung locked him in the café that Wonwoo pulled out his phone.

“…hello?” Soonyoung’s voice was thick was exhaustion. “Wonwoo, baby?”

“Soonyoungie,” Wonwoo tried to say normally.

“Hey. Do you mind if we just relax at your place? I’m _beat_.”

“Oh, no, I’m _fine_ with that.”

The lilt in Wonwoo’s voice made Soonyoung stop in the middle of the street. “…Wonwoo-bear? What’s up?”

“Well, you know, to get into my place you’re going to need my keys.” Wonwoo paused. “Which are here in my hands.”

“I don’t understand.” Three seconds of silence passed. “SHIT!” He hung up, and within seconds he was opening the café doors again. “Wonwoo!” he called out in a panic before finally getting the door open, bursting through. “Baby, I’m so sorry!”

Wonwoo closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s whatever.”

Soonyoung leaned over but then hesitated, instead grabbing Wonwoo’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Wonwoo allowed himself to be dragged away – to Soonyoung’s apartment, since it was closer – and allowed himself to be seated on the couch. He felt a bit like a rubber doll, at Soonyoung’s beck and call.

“Wine?”

“Got something stronger?” he managed to answer.

Soonyoung brought back a whiskey on the rocks for his lover, sitting beside him with a glass of wine. “God, I’m tired.”

“Yeah.”

After a few minutes, the barista seemed to be noticing how down in the mouth his omega was. He leaned in, tousling the front few strands of Wonwoo’s hair. “Hey. Gorgeous. How’re you doing, huh?” He leaned in to kiss him darkly.

Wonwoo didn’t respond, simply shrugging a little. “Fine. I guess.”

Soonyoung backed off with a heavy sigh. He’d known something was wrong the last few times they had been together, but had been unable to pinpoint exactly what the problem was. He leaned over to put his wine glass down on a glass coaster on the coffee table before turning to his omega. “Okay,” he answered. “What’s up?”

Wonwoo closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “…half of it is… something that happened in Busan.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Can’t.” Wonwoo sighed a bit. “You’ll hear about it on the evening news, probably.”

“Is it to do with Woozi?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “No. _That_ you’ll read in the morning papers.” There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, quieter this time. “He proposed to Hayi today.”

Soonyoung gawked a moment before reigning himself in. “Oh.” He looked away for a moment. “It must be killing him. I can’t imagine how Seungcheol must feel… does he even know?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo took a hearty drink. “Seungcheol was right there in front of them when Jihoon got down on one knee.”

“God.”

“Yeah.”

Another few minutes passed in complete silence.

“Alright, you’ve gotta give me a clue,” Soonyoung muttered, fed up. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m not telepathic? Is it because I left you in the café?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes a bit. “No,” he sighed, before thinking about it. “Yes. No. A little. I don’t know.”

The barista tapped his foot to the floor impatiently.

Wonwoo’s eyes danced over the windowsill, away from his lover. “…I just… don’t like it. Being without security. Without… I mean, I know how hard this has all been for you. But it’s hard on me too. I just want a normal relationship. With a normal boyfriend. You just… don’t see me, anymore.”

“Well, we both work,” Soonyoung tried to point out.

“Not like that. We could be the only two people in a room and you don’t really _see_ me.” The omega shook his head. “It’s hard to explain.”

Soonyoung had to grab his glass of wine again.

Soonyoung was tired. Exhausted. Work was taking his all. He’d have to employ a few more baristas if Woozi was dedicated to being a Prince again, or work wasn’t going to cut demand. But no matter how tired he was, as the hours raced by in silence on a sofa with Wonwoo, he couldn’t sleep.

Because something was _wrong_ with _his_ omega and he didn’t understand what was wrong, or how to fix it. It just grew, like an acidic sickness in his stomach.

“…I don’t understand,” he said at length.

Neither of them were looking at each other now.

“Neither do I, to be honest.” Wonwoo shifted in his seat. “Even though you said you wanted to… well, whatever this is. What _is_ this? We’re not boyfriends. You’ve got a deeply rooted commitment issue. And there are days where you treat me like I’m a King. And there are days when you don’t even know I exist. I guess I’d just like something in-between. I’m scared… not knowing. That doesn’t make sense, I know. Call it an omega issue. But I like labels. I like boxes. I like conformity. I don’t… I feel like a rope hanging off a building. I’m just wavering in the wind. And then when you want me you reel me back in, but the moment you don’t anymore… I’m a tassel in the breeze again.”

A flame of deep fear went through Soonyoung’s chest, for two reasons.

Number one, his omega was in _pain_. It was evident in the gentle softness of his voice, in his choice of his words. His omega – the omega _he_ had claimed – was in pain, and it was his fault. All his fault.

Number two, Wonwoo wanted him to _commit_. Put a label on it. Box it. That was the only way to dull his pain. And it made him break out into a cold sweat.

Then Soonyoung realized that his only relationship was about to slip out from between his fingers. He was losing Wonwoo. Every moment they sat in silence, he was drifting further away.

And the last weeks had been perfect. Lovely. Sublime. He’d been able to enjoy meals with Wonwoo’s shy smile across the table. He’d been able to watch a man with sweaters that came far over his nails press his palms up against an aquarium tank on a date. He’d eaten ice-cream with Wonwoo. And they had some of the most explosive, imaginative and _amazing_ sex on the planet.

Everything had been _perfect_. He hadn’t even seen this coming.

Wonwoo just stared at his glass.

“…you know I like you a lot,” Soonyoung whispered.

Wonwoo’s body moved as if to indicate one sarcastic laugh. “…yeah. I know you like me.”

Another silence fell.

“…it’s not good enough, is it?”

“Soonyoung, God, I’m twenty-nine. I’m going to be thirty next year. I want something real. Tangible. I’m scared I’m going to run out of time. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“…but you’re _not_ alone,” the alpha whispered. “I’m here.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond to his lover’s gaze. “Yeah. But sometimes I’m alone when you’ve got your arms around me, too. You’re in a different place and I’m just left with your cheeks and a vacant smile. I’ve surpassed youth. I’m not in college anymore, or military school. I’m not young, and that’s a painful fact I’m having to face.” He took a deep breath. “…I’m getting older. It’s time I started building a life up around me.”

The barista shook his head. “What does that even mean?”

“It means taking out a mortgage. Getting a dog. Taking the trash out on time. Cooking my own meals. It means going to work with matching socks. And getting into bed at the end of the day with the person I love already falling asleep on the pillow next to mine.”

Soonyoung gulped silently. “The person on the pillow. Does he have a face?”

Wonwoo breathed slowly, contemplating the question. “Maybe. He used to. It used to be your face. All swollen from MSG noodles. Eyes turned into tiny slits, cheeks bunched up, face all pink where you’re lying on it. A light snore in the background.”

Soonyoung couldn’t take his eyes off Wonwoo. Here he was. The man with the galaxy in his eyes. The one who had walked out the door of the Triple C.

It wasn’t like Wonwoo hadn’t been unclear about what he wanted from their relationship. No. It had been abundantly clear. Wonwoo wanted an _actual_ relationship. His five-year-plan was to be a father and have a house and a bulldog. He wanted something stable to build upon. A foundation.

And the worst thing was that Soonyoung had _known_. He’d known from the very beginning he couldn’t be a foundation. He was a fling: always had been. Soonyoung had been a solo pilot for so long he didn’t know how to function _with_ somebody anymore. He’d known that he would never be able to fulfil Wonwoo’s needs, he wouldn’t live up to his dreams and desires. And he’d jumped in head-first anyway.

And now, it wasn’t just making _him_ miserable, like he thought it would. It was making _Wonwoo_ miserable, too.

Wonwoo brushed his face with an open palm slowly. “I keep asking myself where it all went wrong, you know? I finished school like a good kid. I was in college – studying engineering, actually. I was doing pretty average in all my classes. Then somebody suggested martial arts. I picked it up for fun, as a sport, but it led me to military school anyway. From there, I went on to special training services and ended up as a bodyguard. I always gave it my all, I stayed focused, had my shit together. I made friends, I got employed… so how did my life turn out so _empty_?”

Soonyoung felt like his throat was closing over. He couldn’t breathe right. Oxygen wasn’t giving the necessary relief. Everything in his face hurt, like his skull had just been crushed under a car, except he was still breathing.

 _God, look at him,_ he thought. _Look at his beautiful face. His eyes. His cheeks. His perfect little nose. Look at him. At how beautiful he is. It’s as if I’ve never really looked at just his face. His body is great too. But look at how deep his eyes are. How sharp his jaw is. Look at how pained he is now._

“…I guess some people just don’t get it together until later in life. I guess I just wasn’t meant to work that way.”

 _I should let him go,_ Soonyoung thought, frozen in place with his feet up on the sofa. _I should let him go and let him find happiness. I can’t supply it for him. I can’t give him the things he wants and needs. But God, if I could have one wish, it would be for his happiness. Look at him. Somebody who has been such an angel to somebody like me deserves to be happy._

But his words refused to leave that tiny, sane part of his brain. The majority was still fighting to keep its grip on the one good thing in Soonyoung’s life. The only one good thing.

“I’d do anything, you know.”

“Hm?”

Wonwoo still wasn’t looking at him, but Soonyoung couldn’t stop staring.

“I’d do anything. I’d change anything. For you. I’d do my best to give you the perfect life you deserve.”

Wonwoo’s expression didn’t change.

The words came out in a haunted breath of a whisper. “It’s too late, isn’t it?”

All the omega could do was nod once, slowly. Chin down, chin up.

“Too little. Too late.”

Neither of them reacted to that for a long time. They both finished their drinks, staring at objects away from each other.

Wonwoo eventually stood up, putting his glass down on the table. He didn’t look at Soonyoung. “…I guess I should get going. I need to get back to Busan in the morning. Help out with the situation there.”

“Yeah.” Soonyoung’s voice was fading out to nothing as his vision became a little darker. His angel was going. Leaving. His personal sun was going to walk out the door again. But this time, Soonyoung would let him leave. Against all the odds, Soonyoung would not text him. He wouldn’t beg to come back. Soonyoung was going to let him go.

Go be happy with some other man. Go be happy with somebody who will love him back.

“…make sure you get up on time for work in the morning.” Wonwoo stopped on his way past, hand hovering over Soonyoung’s head to pet his hair down.

Wonwoo walked away without touching the alpha.

“Yeah.” Soonyoung’s voice was too weak to carry over the distance between himself and Wonwoo.

The omega pulled his coat on. It was like a countdown to misery.

“Wonwoo?” Soonyoung whispered, paralysed in his seat. He couldn’t move his body. Couldn’t raise his voice. Couldn’t look away from one spot on the wall.

The front door shut quietly.

“I love you. Please be happy.”

Cold tears dripped from Soonyoung’s eyes before he looked at the glass in his hand.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out how to stop the cold freezer-burn pain in his chest. _Just fill the glass up again_.

 

Soonyoung wasn’t up in time for work. Soonyoung didn’t go into work.

Soonyoung stayed at home with a wine bottle clasped between his hands like a lifeline.


	20. One Soul in Two Bodies

Their engagement celebrations were continued well into the evening: the Royal family, designers and ministers were all invited to stay a few days in the Southern palace. Eventually the Royals retired to their own drawing room with music and bright lights, and Jihoon’s expression dissolved from the Dark Prince to the Prince of Worry, Doubt, Self-Hatred and a Vague Sense of Depression About To Hit.

He and Hayi sat in a corner of the room. Hayi rubbed his back comfortingly as the Prince sat with his face in his hands.

The poor Princess didn’t even know what to say to console him.

The only thing Jihoon The Dark Prince really wanted was to be alone in a room, and to call Seungcheol to him and beg on his knees. That was all he wanted. Just a chance to tell him everything and beg for his forgiveness.

But that was impossible. His entire family was here, including his mother, and all the ministers. Not to mention the whispers maids could circulate about the newly-engaged prince trying to see an alpha alone in a room after dark.

So he simply sat there, entirely forlorn and awful.

“Where’s Joshua?”

Everybody seemed to quieten at Shannon’s question.

It was no secret amongst the adults that Joshua’s arranged marriage – like many – was not a happy affair. It was also no secret that Joshua and his bodyguard JR had a more than professional relationship.

Nobody was about to explain extramarital homosexual affairs to a twelve-year-old princess.

Her mother fussed a little, picking at Shannon’s hair. “He said he was going to go have a walk around the gardens now that it’s a little darker. Remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“And darling, when we’re with other people, you have to call him-”

“The King, My Brother the King, or His Majesty. God, mom. I’m not five.”

Shannon was given a harsh rebuke for speaking to the Queen Dowager like that, and the small familial party continued on for another while.

“It’ll be alright,” Hayi attempted.

Jihoon gave her a look.

“Hey, come on. You’re my best friend. What do you _want_ me to say?”

A muffled sound silenced the party. Jihoon sprung up to open one of the windows wide, just in time to hear the horrifying scream.

 _“JOSHUAAAAAAAA!_ ” The voice was so pained and extremely _distraught_ that it was unrecognizable at first. “JOSHUA!” he screamed again. In the black of the night, a figure moved rhythmically. It took a few moments of horrified screaming to realize what was happening.

Uncle Heechul was performing CPR.

“Get me a _medic!_ ” His voice was so changed by horror and fear, it was shrill. He sounded more like a high-pitched pterodactyl than a man. “Get me a _fucking medic! Now! JOSHUA! KEEP BREATHING!”_

Uncle Hee kept performing CPR until a team of medics showed up. They took the practice over, offering the King mouth-to-mouth, and then quickly moving on to the paddles.

They spent a full ten minutes over the body in the darkness. The Royal family was locked upstairs, disallowed from rushing to the King – who knew what lurked in the shadows for them?

Thirty minutes after they stopped CPR, Uncle Hee appeared in the doorway. His face was red and blotchy and shiny from tears; dirt was ingrained in stressed wrinkles in his forehead, and his entire expression was drawn. He looked like he had aged twenty years in an hour. The sorrow and shock were so deep in his eyes, it hurt to look directly at him.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming. “The King is dead.”

The Queen Dowager would have fainted if she was still on her feet: she simply sat in her chair, holding her face in her hands. Shannon immediately burst into tears, dropping her beloved phone on the floor.

Not a muscle moved in Jeonghan’s body.

“He was eating _berries_ ,” Uncle Hee muttered. “From the gardens.”

Jeonghan’s vision began to blur. He couldn’t feel his body. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t scream. He was absolutely paralysed.

“…the chief of police has been called, and the coroner is examining the body.” The exhausted man went to sit in a chair, almost falling into the seat. “…but Joshua is gone.”

And that was the moment Jeonghan’s body hit the floor.

 

The medics had taken away the Seductful Prince – alive, thank God, but paralysed with shock and grief, and in need of medical watch just in face – and the Chief of Police had arrived on the scene.

Uncle Heechul’s courage had been bolstered by a few glugs of brandy, so the Chief of Police was able to ask him what had happened in relative comfort.

“Joshua was… out and about in the gardens. I knew that. I was going to go see if I could find him. It’s getting cold out there.” The old man pulled his coat tighter around himself. “When I saw him, he was holding a handkerchief. One I gave him years ago. For his ninth birthday. When he was just a little kid. It was full of assorted berries, I guess. He was munching on one happily. A blackberry, I think. I asked him where they were from. He said, _from some of the bushes_. I told him to be careful which ones he ate, because who knew – and he laughed at me, real like him. So carefree. Happy. And he said, _Uncle Hee, it’s all good_. Then he just took all the remaining berries and threw them in his mouth. Next thing I know he’s on the lawn, body shuddering and shaking like he was possessed. God I… I… I just stood there. When he went limp, I just hit the ground and started pounding on his chest.”

Uncle Hee was in his seventies already, and his heart wasn’t as good as it used to be. The Chief only asked him a few more questions – did he _see_ the berries, did he _see_ the King’s body as fit in the dark – before deciding anymore questioning could be done later. The poor man was shaking from head to toe, the ice in his drink clinking against the crystal gently. Uncle Heechul wouldn’t have to be put through much more tonight.

A guard was called to escort the elderly man to his room, but he wouldn’t go without one of his nephews or nieces with him. It took a bit of convincing until the Chief of police took one look on the disturbed looks of the Royal Family, and decided that questioning any of them was pointless at this stage.

Uncle Hee’s hand stretched out, trembling. “Jihoon. Hoonie, my boy.”

The Dark Prince was at his side instantly, putting his Uncle’s arm around his shoulders. “Here, Uncle Hee. I have you.”

Uncle Hee looked at him for a long moment before getting up, heavily leaning on Jihoon’s shoulders. The Dark Prince escorted his Uncle to his room, let him dress in privacy and came back to tuck him into bed.

“Jihoonie?” Uncle Hee looked up with tears in his eyes. “You know you’re my favorite, right?”

“Yes Uncle Hee.” He’d always known. “I know.”

“Because you and I are the same.” Uncle Hee refused to let his nephew’s hand go. “Because we’re the same. United. You and I. Right?”

Jihoon almost found it in him to smile. It was the same speech Uncle Hee had given him throughout his childhood. “Yes, Uncle Hee. The only omegas in the Royal Family, ever. You and I. United.”

Uncle Hee nodded one more time and let him go: Jihoon got to the door before he spoke again. “Hoonie?”

“Yes, Uncle Hee?”

“…you won’t die too, right?”

The boy couldn’t smile, and he was lucky he didn’t have to, switching the light out so his Uncle couldn’t see his expression. “No, Uncle Hee. I won’t die.”

 

The Chief was just finished taking down some notes when the coroner showed up to give his report. In his hand, the man held a few red orbs.

“Rosary peas,” he announced. “One of these suckers can kill instantly. There were a few on the ground where he fell, and some more in his pocket. He must have picked them thinking they were cranberries.”

“Or he was led to believe they were cranberries.” The Chief snapped his book shut. “What garden were those berries planted in? Nevermind – Woohyuk.” The agent at the door looked up. “Go get me the designers. I want to question them.”

 

When Seungcheol walked into the room, he didn’t even look around it to find Jihoon. He simply stood in a line with the other designers. As they all filed in, Jeonghan walked around the corner.

He looked like _crap_ , shaky and white with red blotches, like he was about to shake apart at the joints, but he was able to keep it together. More or less.

“Alright, gentlemen. Which one of you had these berries planted in your garden?” The Chief held up the red berries. “I want a straight answer, no funny business. They’re called Rosary Peas.”

Three hands went up. Seungcheol’s was one of them.

“Alright, well whose _idea_ was it to have them planted?!”

One man slowly hung his head until his face was no longer visible. His hands turned into fists by his sides and his answer was a simple, low whisper.

“It was mine.”

Jeonghan was cracking at the seams. “It was my idea,” he whispered, haunted. “I wanted the rosary peas. I did it. I _killed_ him by having them planted. My… own… brother. My… My _Joshua_.” Tears were dripping on the carpet. “My brother… my Joshua… my _Joshua_ …”

It hadn’t been clear to anybody until that point just how much the twins were one soul living in two bodies. After that night, Jeonghan would never be the same again.

The Chief dismissed them. “I think it’s best if everybody who doesn’t strictly need to be in Busan should go back home. Tonight.”

The designers left the room, together with the Chief: Jeonghan sat hunched over in a chair unhappily.

“Wonwoo.” Jihoon’s words were quiet and fervent. “I want you to make sure Seungcheol gets home safe.”

The bodyguard gave him a queasy look. “Jihoon, it’s my job-”

“That wasn’t a question.” The growl in the Prince’s tone held no room for negotiating. “Make sure he gets home safe. Spend the night in Seoul. Don’t bother coming out till morning. I’ll be fine.”

Wonwoo gave the Prince a long look before giving him a quick hug – very unprofessional – and turning.

“Make sure you’re not seen.”

Wonwoo made the _ok_ sign without turning or stopping.

Hayi turned to look at Jihoon, and he looked at her in response. They both knew that Seungcheol was everything to the young barista. And Jihoon would risk himself, Hayi, and his whole family if the one bodyguard made sure Seungcheol slept safely tonight.

 

Lizzy’s hand curled over his, and it was the first thing he really registered.

“Soonyoung,” she said quietly. “Give me the bottle.”

He resisted for a moment, but then let her have the wine bottle. It was empty anyway. Had been for a while.

She cleaned him up – put him in fresh clothes, ran a comb through his hair, doused him in cologne. She put shoes on his feet, and realized that getting the lifeless sack of bones and meat to move would prove harder than anticipated.

“Soonyoung.” Lizzy squatted down in front of the man. “I know it’s hard,” she said softly, “but you have to get up now.”

“Why?” Even he winced at the bitter, hopeless tone of his voice.

“Because we need to get some greasy food and a lot of water into you, and I can’t carry you.”

Somehow, Lizzy managed to drag her boss to the closest ramen shop: she fed him slowly until he began to revive.

When he was able to feed himself, she took a drink of her water. “Soonyoung,” she said quietly, “am I going to have to call a clinic?”

The man took a deep but shaky breath. “No.”

“Your apartment was filled with empty wine bottles, and you stink.”

“It was one night.” Soonyoung blinked at his ramen noodles. “It won’t happen again.”

“…promise?”

“Promise.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.” It was the fastest the barista had ever answered any question before. “No, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t… I want to…”

Lizzy rubbed his back. “Well, any time you need me, I’ll come running, okay?”

The man barked out one sarcastic laugh. “Kay. Thanks, kid.”

Lizzy smiled and straightened out. “Now, we had better go to work. Ren’s playing barista all by himself. At least I could help him during the morning rush.”

“God, what time is it?”

“Three PM.”

“…I need a shower.”

Lizzy smiled sadly, watching her boss scrape what little sanity he still had together and stand. “Yeah. Come down to shop when you’re all cleaned up, alright?”

“Yeah. Hey, Lizzy. Did you feed the fish?”

The girl went pale white, and then bright red. “See ya, Soonyoung!”

The man forced out a brittle, unreal smile. _That kid never changes._


	21. Goodbye, Your Highness

**Wonwoo:** Seungcheol is safe. He’s back to work this morning. I’m on my way to the train station. You still alive?

 **Jihoon:** Yeah. We’re all still alive. Kind of.

 **Wonwoo:** Kind of?

 **Jihoon:** Jeonghan’s not doing so well. He’s on an IV feed because he won’t eat or drink. He just lies there on his bed. He’s not moving. Sometimes he cries and screams. The rest of the time…

 **Wonwoo:** Well, they were the closest of brothers. Possibly closer than you and Dino.

 **Jihoon:** Yeah. I’m kind of numb to it all. I think my heart has been broken too much.

 **Wonwoo:** Yeah.  
**Wonwoo:** How’s Hayi holding up?

 **Jihoon:** God, she’s a feisty little thing, isn’t she?

 **Wonwoo:** That she is.

 

The Palace was in an eerie silence when Wonwoo got back: the only sound coming from the grounds was one man gently sweeping the patio tiles in front of the gardens. The very place that yesterday had been aplomb of celebration and congratulatory shouts at the engagement of a Prince.

Jihoon, Hayi, Minhyun and Shannon were all in a room together. Minhyun was playing around with a ping-pong ball, attached to a bat with a string. Shannon was texting, curled up in a little ball. The two engaged best friends sat beside each other: Hayi was painting her nails by an open window, and Jihoon was simply staring at nothing.

Wonwoo smacked a wad of newspapers on the table, making everybody look up. “Jihoon,” he said quietly, “you made front-page news.”

“Our engagement?” Hayi got up instantly to rush to the papers.

“No. Your engagement is mentioned, though.”

Jihoon’s lifeless, listless head rolled against the wall until he was giving Wonwoo a dreary look. “What do you mean?” he asked softly.

Hayi picked up a paper, reading out loud. “Dark Prince Smiles at Phone.” She turned it around; Somebody had caught one picture of the moment Seungcheol had texted the Prince, and the smile on his face when it had happened. “Blablabla, in other news got engaged to… well, that’s something!” She put the newspaper back on the stack with an indignant look. “My engagement didn’t even make a headline!”

Jihoon didn’t even respond. He just turned his head again to look at the window.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo offered her. “Nobody’s ever caught Jihoon smiling on camera before, ever. He barely ever smiled as a child, even when he wasn’t dogged by paparazzi. It’s something nobody has ever seen before.”

She sighed and nodded. “I guess so.”

“Hayi!” Shannon put her phone in her pocket. “You promised to do my nails, too.”

“You won’t be able to text for an hour.”

“I know!”

Their conversation faded into the background as Wonwoo went to sit with Jihoon by the open window, inside the large windowsill meant to be sat in. “Hey.”

Jihoon didn’t respond in any way.

“…it’ll be okay. He’s safe, now.” Wonwoo paused a moment, wondering how to get a reaction out of the Dark Prince. “How are you holding up?”

Jihoon didn’t react, but a tear did drop from his eye.

Wonwoo mopped it up with a handkerchief before anybody could notice. It took him a while, staring at the other people in the room to figure out what to say. “…nothing can be done about it now. You have an entire week of interviews and appearances to be had.”

“…cancel them,” the Prince said quietly.

“Sorry?”

“I won’t be paraded in front of the paparazzi like this.”

“Jihoon, you just got engaged. You can’t do that.”

The Dark Prince turned his head to his bodyguard slowly. “Wonwoo. I’m telling you I’m not able. _Physically_.”

The bodyguard considered that for a moment, staring at the Prince. Jihoon was right. He wasn’t in any physical condition to go through the typical fanfare of a royal engagement. Depression was setting in his expression, and it was setting _fast_. His eyes were empty. Very empty.

“…I’ll see what I can do.”

Minhyun wobbled over carefully when Wonwoo vacated his seat; he sat with his kid brother, patting his arms.

At first, Jihoon shrugged him off. He didn’t have what it took to deal with Minhyun right now. The man had a severe mental disability, and needed a special kind of attention. Jihoon didn’t have the wits about him for it now.

 _I love you_ , Minhyun signalled, using sign language. Afraid that his mouth would fail him.

Jihoon made the signs back emotionlessly. Not even looking.

Then Minhyun fell forward to hug his little brother tightly, fingers jerking on his back.

Jihoon hugged him back. _God, I love my brothers,_ he thought aimlessly. _Minhyun can’t even understand half the things that go on around him. Can’t even speak properly. Can’t even walk properly. And yet, he knows exactly when I need him._ Jihoon didn’t let his big brother go for a long time.

Minhyun understood, and just let his baby brother cry.

A shadow loomed over the window suddenly: both Princes glanced up at it. Jihoon reacted immediately: he moved his brother off the windowsill, grabbed his little sister by the shoulder – ruining her nail polish – and drove everybody out of the room within seconds.

“Jihoon!” Hayi complained when the door was shut. “What is wrong with you?!”

The Dark Prince gave her a single look, that said not to ask that question. “Hayi, could you take Shannon and Minhyun down to the gardens? I know they have skipping ropes and some other things to play with in the sheds. Ask the gardener.”

“Jihoon?”

“Hayi. I’m asking you to take care of my family with me.”

Hayi seemed to understand the pain and urgency of the message the Dark Prince was trying to convey. “Alright. Yes, of course. Come on, sweetheart. I’ll fix your nail, don’t worry. You too, Minhyun! Let’s go out and play a while.”

Jihoon rushed to find Wonwoo – he waited impatiently for the bodyguard to finish his phone call.

“Jihoon?”

“Get somebody to go to the Queen Dowager’s room.”

“What? Why?”

“Because somebody needs to pull her body back onto her bedroom balcony and cut the sheets. The Queen Dowager just hung herself.”

 

 _This_ was obviously a suicide. Joshua had been the Queen Dowager’s favorite son and child of them all. His death was simply too much for her to bear. In her suicide note, she made it no secret how much she despised her last four sons – _wrong_ humans, she had called them. Abominations. Monsters.

Jihoon wasn’t fazed, reading what his mother had written about him in her last, desperate moments. It didn’t surprise him at all. But then, his mother had never made it a secret how much she hated him.

The suicide note was kept away from Minhyun and Dino both. Jun was angry – and it didn’t look like he would relax about it any time soon. Jihoon could understand that. He’d felt that way many times during his childhood. Now it simply didn’t change anything. The wounds his mother had created in him were already as deep as wounds could go. She couldn’t hurt him anymore than she already had.

 

 **Jihoon:** I’m back in Seoul. I know I don’t have any right to ask you this, but can we talk?

 **Seungcheol:** Triple C, tomorrow. 13:00.

 **Jihoon:** I’ll be there.

 

Hayi was permitted to execute her interviews by herself: Jihoon refused them all, except one big one on Thursday. But until then, he was free. Well, almost.

He had to work for fourteen more days at Triple C in order to finish off his contract properly. Today he was only working a half-day.

Lizzy had also updated him on the situation. He gently clapped Soonyoung on the back. “Hey, Soonie.”

Soonyoung looked up: his eyes were just as empty and dead as Jihoon’s were, but different. Soonyoung had a glint in his eye. A glint that proved a fire had ignited in him. A glint that proved he was fighting his own personal pain: that he would move on.

Jihoon couldn’t muster that kind of spirit.

“Hey, Woozi.” He gave him a hug. “Welcome back.”

“Yeah.”

“You look like crap.”

“So do you.”

Soonyoung couldn’t bring himself to smile at that. “Yeah. Hey, we’re going to miss you over here.”

“That’s alright. I’ll visit when I can. Hey, speaking of. Do you want my apartment?”

Soonyoung looked up.

“It’s bigger than your own, and right above the café. _Zero_ commute to work. And free of charge, as long as you let me bunk there if I ever need it. And considering I’m going to live in the palace from now on…”

 Soonyoung hugged him tightly, suddenly. “…gonna miss you, kid. Don’t be a stranger, alright? Text me lots. Keep the keys to the café.”

“Sure.” Jihoon took a deep breath and rolled up his sleeves. “But I’m here now. Let’s get to work. Did you feed the fish?”

 

Jihoon sat in a back booth – more private – in the dark. Jeans and a white dress shirt. Fingers curled around a hot cup of coffee.

Seungcheol gently but silently slid into the seat across from him.

The alpha was a little shaken – _feathers ruffled_ , Wonwoo would call it – and there were dark rings under his eyes, but other than that, he seemed to be alright. The sight of his face was the most _beautiful_ thing Jihoon could ever behold. So he simply stared, knowing that this might be the last time he ever saw it.

Seungcheol took a deep breath. “So…”

“So,” Jihoon said softly, looking back down at his cup for a moment.

“You’re the Dark Prince.”

“…I did _try_ to tell you.”

Seungcheol nodded. “…yeah, you did.”

“Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

A silence fell between them.

“I told you,” Jihoon started softly. “That no matter what happened in Busan, you were the only one for me. My soulmate. The one I loved more than life itself. Did you believe me?”

“I did. Then.”

Seungcheol’s tone was too cold; too _concealing,_ like he was keeping all the hurt on the inside.

“…and now.”

“…you’re engaged. You tell me.”

“That’s not on my terms.” Jihoon shook his head slowly. “Not my idea. There was a war to be prevented. My marriage to Hayi will prevent it. We both agreed months ago it would _never_ be a romantic relationship. We’re… friends. Good friends. She’s… a good person. Very kind. We’re very alike, really. I respect her and hold her in high regard. But if you think for even a _second_ I could hold for her an ounce of what I hold for you, then you’re dead wrong.”

Seungcheol couldn’t look at the Prince. “You lied to me.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon gulped. “I lied a lot. There were many times I wanted to try again. Explain to you who I was. What was going on in my life. Why I am the way I am. But instead, I lied. You were so happy. Your smile was so _Goddamn beautiful…_ ” The Prince took a deep breath, hurriedly wiping tears off his face. “I couldn’t get there.”

“…shoulda tried harder,” Seungcheol whispered.

Jihoon dropped his gaze in pain. “Yeah. Shoulda tried harder. I didn’t think… I mean, I hoped you wouldn’t notice. Or wouldn’t find out about the engagement. And that I could tell you later, in private, explain it all. But it’s all messed up now.”

“…I just can’t believe it. Your whole life here at the café was a lie.”

Jihoon couldn’t answer that. It felt like somebody had beaten in the middle of his chest with a blunt hammer.

“Our relationship was a lie. Based on lies. Everything you ever said… you couldn’t be honest with me. Couldn’t tell me the truth either way. And I never knew you. I knew… a fake you. A fantasy you. A _fiction._ A mask.” Seungcheol’s hands became fists on the table. “I was in love with somebody that didn’t even _exist_. And then I watched him get down on one knee to somebody else. Have you _any_ idea what that feels like?!”

Jihoon’s lungs weren’t working properly. His breaths were shaky, shuddering in his chest.

“Well? Do you?”

“ _No._ ” Saying it felt like a death sentence.

Seungcheol sat back, dark shadows thrown across his face in anger and hurt. “I just don’t even know what to say. I feel like the biggest practical joke ever.”

“No, God, no. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Jihoon clenched his eyes closed. “I wanted to make you feel happy. Marry you. I just wanted you to be _happy_ and love you. You were never meant to be a joke, God, no. Seungcheol. _Seungcheol._ ” Jihoon felt like his organs were being ripped out of him, leaving an empty carcass behind. “Seungcheol.”

“Well, that’s obviously not going to happen anymore.” The alpha’s tone was no-nonsense, and unemotional, despite the dizzying turmoil in Jihoon’s head.

He couldn’t answer for a few moments, in an attempt to find his lungs. “…can you give me one more chance? Just – just one more?”

Seungcheol’s voice was too quiet. “…no. I don’t think I can anymore.”

Jihoon couldn’t move.

The florist stood, and bowed slightly. “Goodbye, your highness.”


	22. The PR Disaster

The hallways were haunted with her scent, her face, her voice. It didn’t matter where Jihoon went. He wasn’t even safe in his own bedroom. _Her_ memory was everywhere, stamped in like an eternal nightmare. Everything was a haunting reminder of a childhood that should never have come to pass.

But as he barrelled down a hallway to his appointment, he stopped short. He avoided this hallway. The south one, that came out on the courtyard. It was raining outside.

It was as if it was just yesterday. He could still see the baby-blue dress his mother had worn that day. It was raining, just like today, with thick cloud cover.

 _“Jihoon._ _You’re not welcome in my house. You’re not welcome in my family. If you leave, you had better make it so that I never have to see you again.”_

_“Yes, mother.”_

_“Jihoon. One more thing.” She didn’t even look at him. “I’m not your mother. I have never been your mother. The mother of an_ omega _. Who would want to mother such a creature? Never call me by that name again.”_

_“…yes, your majesty.”_

Jihoon had to pause at the memory, so eerily poignant. He took a moment to catch raindrops in his hand. That was the day he had left the palace to pursue a normal life.

Then he took a deep breath, drove the sentiment down into his gut and kept walking down the hallway until he burst into the room.

Hayi jumped up to go to his side. “You, sir, are late,” she smiled, taking his arm immediately. “Poor Amy got scared you wouldn’t show up.”

 _One_ interview. With _one_ major news broadcasting channel. After that, Jihoon could go back to normalcy.

Jihoon put his arm around the little Princess’ waist. “Sorry, Hayi.”

“That’s okay.” The Princess beamed, leaning in to her fiancé. “I told her you wouldn’t stand me up like that. Come, come sit down!”

 _She really is an excellent actress_ , Jihoon thought, allowing himself to be dragged to the sofa. _If she hadn’t been born royal, she would have made Hollywood_.

Jihoon shook a cold hand with their interviewer Amy and then sat down on the sofa, his arm around Hayi’s shoulders.

The questions were _very_ cliché: how was their first meeting, how did they get along, when did Jihoon decide to propose? All of that.

Jihoon could only stay an hour in front of the camera before _business_ took the Prince elsewhere – a.k.a. he couldn’t handle it anymore. He dropped a chaste kiss on Hayi’s temple and exited the room quickly.

It seems as if both Amy and the entire camera crew took a sigh of genuine relief when the Dark Prince left. “Good God, is he always so… _intensely_ cold?”

Hayi tilted her head, frowning slightly. “Who? Jihoon? Was he very cold? What you just saw was downright pleasant.” She had been asked to keep the dream of a disagreeable Prince alive. “Don’t worry about it, though. He won’t show up again.”

“So, how does it feel? Being engaged to somebody so… _angry_ all the time?”

Hayi’s expression seemed to melt into a more pleasant, thoughtful, soft look. “To be honest, Jihoon is one of the kindest and most accepting young gentlemen on the face of the earth. He’s understanding to a fault, and he wouldn’t harm a fly. Sure, he has a temper on him, but if you look at him – if you _really_ look closely – you’ll see how genuinely good he really is.

The interviewer was very impressed. “Wow. Sounds like true love.”

Hayi laughed a little. “I don’t really believe in stuff like true love. But… I suppose I do love Jihoon very much. A very _true_ love. And he loves me the same way. He’s had a hard childhood, so it makes him… well. Either way, he’s my best friend in the world now.”

Amy smiled sweetly. “That’s so sweet – that you can be best friends _and_ lovers.”

“Yeah.”

“…what’s it like, being engaged to an _omega_?”

“Madame,” one of the PR officers murmured from the side-lines. “That question is inappropriate.”

“Ah, sorry. Of course. Forgive me, your Highness.” Amy blushed. “Then… may we see the ring?”

 

Jeonghan’s eyes were empty. As empty as Jihoon’s were – but at least Jihoon was _trying_. He still got up every morning, showered, changed his clothes. Walked and spoke. Jeonghan had simply given up entirely.

Jihoon simply sat there near his bed, smoothing his thumb pad over his cheek. It had been two weeks already, since Joshua had died. A week since Seungcheol had left him. If Jeonghan didn’t snap out of it soon…

“He used to do that.”

It was the first time Jeonghan had spoken at a normal level before; Jihoon only paused his fingers for a moment. “Hmm?”

“ _He_ used to do that. On my face. He knew it comforted me. When we shared a room, back when we were younger, he’d always wake up first and do that. He loved me, you know. More than anybody else in the whole world ever loved anybody. He loved me so much. And I loved him back. But I don’t think I ever showed it properly.” The Prince was beyond crying, now; the words just fell from his mouth in a quiet tone. “And now the only person I could ever count on is gone. How am I supposed to function without him? What am I going to _do_?”

Jeonghan looked up at his little brother, fear in his eyes. “Jihoon, what am I going to do now?”

Jihoon played with his brother’s hair for just a moment. “…you’re going to become King, Jeonghan.”

The Prince froze. “What?”

“You’re next in line to become King,” Jihoon told him softly. “You’re going to be the King.”

Jeonghan thought about that for a moment before _moving_ – he sat up, threw his bedcovers off him and pulled out the IV needle with a strength his brother couldn’t believe he had. “Call up the ministers, the council and the parliament. Call out the press and the family.”

“J-Jeonghan?!”

“I have an _announcement_ to make.” Jeonghan stood, a little shakily – he had lost a lot of weight – and made his way over to his wardrobe.

Jihoon had no choice but to do as his brother said.

 

“I hereby declare that I, Jeonghan the Seductful Prince, rescind my right to the royal throne.”

A gasp of extreme shock went through the crowd that was present.

“I declare that I am unfit, of both mind and body, to rule this good country. I am unsound, and incapable of making the decisions that a good ruler should make. I take full responsibility for my own life alone, and I will not be pressed upon to undertake the responsibility of millions of others’. My good ministers, my privy council, my parliament, thank you.” Jeonghan shut the book that lay open on the pedestal, turned his back, and left the room.

It only took a few seconds before complete uproar began.

The royal family rushed out after their brother: Yoonjo was over for a visit as Han wanted to visit Hayi, and the poor Princess was in tears.

“Jeonghan, you can’t give up the throne!”

“Why not?” The man didn’t even stop moving.

Dino ran forward; only his little frame could have made the Prince stop in his tracks. “Jeonghan!” the ten-year-old whispered. “If you give up the throne, don’t you realize who it passes to?!”

Jeonghan picked his baby brother up, before turning to his family: his eyes immediately set on Yoonjo, the next eldest member of the family, but she gently shook her head.

No, of course not. She had married into China’s royal family. She could no longer rule.

Jeonghan’s eyes slid over his family’s faces until they landed on the next eldest, just five years behind Yoonjo.

 _Minhyun_.

He gently set Dino back on the ground, staring at the poor young man. Minhyun stood there, confused and a bit upset; his family were all distraught, so he should be too.

“Minhyun.” Jeonghan whispered, horror passing in his eyes. Then… his eyes became empty again. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “He’s gone. Nothing matters now.”

 

Everything was a PR disaster. The whole family had to bond together in order to catch it all: for now, Jun was in charge of official statements and legal documents, Yoonjo was handling the PR disaster together with Hayi, and Jihoon was keeping the palace running properly.

It was a group effort in every sense of the phrase.

Jihoon was neck-deep in statements, claims and bills from the palace work: they were all stacked in tall towers on and around his desk in his room, like a genuine nightmare.

Little footsteps could be heard from down the hallway. Light, and running. Jihoon smiled. Shannon was the only one who could run and get away with it. The Dark Prince pulled away from his desk to accept her.

To his great surprise, Hayi burst through the doors, and fell into Jihoon’s embrace _sobbing_.

“Hayi!” Jihoon gripped his best friend tightly. “What’s wrong?!”

“Nothing!” she screamed, her sobs racking her body. “I’m – so – happy!”

Jihoon’s shock melted away to hug Hayi tightly, understanding the situation. “Ah. You went and asked somebody to bring you some bean water.”

“And they brought _coffee_ ,” she practically screamed into her fiancé’s shoulder. “And I recognized it _immediately_ and I went _downstairs_ to the kitchens and he was just _there_ roasting the beans – and – and – and I – and I!”

Jihoon led her to a seat and hugged her tightly until her breathing had calmed down and her hiccups were gone. It took a while. A long while.

“My Wu Yifan is downstairs in the kitchens,” Hayi whispered. “And it’s not by coincidence.”

“No.” Jihoon pinched her cheek lightly. “When… I promised my brother I would give up the life I wanted and be a Prince and marry you, on the one condition that he would bring Yifan here to the palace.”

She burst out; a hysteric sob flew from her mouth before she could stop it. “Why?!” Tears began to fall again. “Why would _that_ be your condition?!”

Jihoon almost smiled, playing with a strand of her hair. “Because you have been the kindest, most _gentle_ soul I could have wished for to be my arranged wife. Because you’re understanding, and sweet, and you’re always behind me every step of the way. Because you’re my best friend, Hayi, and you deserve to be happy.”

She threw her arms around him and cried again. “Thank you,” she mumbled in his ear. “Thank you so much, Jihoonie.”

“My pleasure, Hayi. Really.” Jihoon stroked her hair and kissed her head sweetly. “Did he see you?”

“No, I hid. I just saw him, then I came here.” She sniffed, wiping her tears quickly, trying to regain a little self-control. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“Don’t worry.” Jihoon handed her a handkerchief. “Well, how about this? After dinner we’ll go sit in the drawing room by ourselves, and ask for our new barista to come up with a tray and serve us some coffee. Don’t worry, I’ll leave.”

Hayi’s breath sped up. “You would do that? For me?”

“I already had him flown all the way here from China and I’m paying him to stay,” Jihoon pouted. “What’s the point of it if you guys don’t get some alone time together?”

“Jihoonie!” She almost crushed him in a hug. “Thank you. Really. I can never repa-”

“Don’t talk nonsense about repaying me.” Jihoon pinched both her cheeks gently. “My biggest reward will be that my best friend in the whole world is happy.”

Hayi took some deep breathes. “All this… and you can’t even see the person _you_ love.”

“Hey, now. Your Yifan might not take to all of this too well, either. You know? When he finds out that you’re engaged to an omega.”

“Yifan wouldn’t care. He loves me.”

The omega nodded a little. “Well, then. Until we get there, I suggest you go back to your room and fix your eyeliner. We can’t have Mr. Right seeing you with mascara on your cheeks, hmm?”

“Yes, sir.” She sniffed once more and then hugged her fiancé _again_. “Jihoon, if there’s ever anything… you know I’ll do anything for you.”

“Get _going_ before I kick you out,” the Prince jested.

 

That evening, Hayi had _really_ outdone herself for her date outfit. Skinny jeans and a pink off-the-shoulder organza shirt, with her hair in a high ponytail.

“Wow,” Jihoon mumbled sarcastically.

“He might not recognize me in Princess garb. And I want him to see the real me.”

“If you say so.” Jihoon took a seat beside her. “Nervous?”

The Princess gave him a horrified look. “That obvious?”

He petted her head twice. “Don’t worry. You look lovely. You love him, right?”

She nodded.

There was a knock on the door to freeze them both; then suddenly a tray was rolled in, a _very_ tall young man coming in behind it. “Excuse me, I-”

The three figures in the room froze and Yifan and Hayi’s eyes met.

Jihoon stood and clapped the tall man on the shoulder as he walked past. “That woman sitting there,” he said in fluent Mandarin, “loves you more than you know. Be nice to her.”

And then he simply walked away, shutting the door softly behind himself.


	23. Howl of Terror

The situation with Minhyun was simple. They were stalling.

Jeonghan had long reverted to his almost vegetated state. Everybody had hoped that after his feisty declaration of resignation he would be able to live normally, but it was a premature hope. He was back on an IV, not moving, not speaking. Sometimes he’d scream in his sleep. Everybody was getting used to it.

Minhyun could not take the throne. It was simply not possible. He was not _able_ , mentally or physically. The defects in his chromosomes made it so that he would never be able to be King, and secretly, Jihoon was very glad about it. Minhyun was a beautiful young man with a happy demeanor, whose favorite past time was hugging his family and playing games.

Somebody so pure should never have to be king.

But Jeonghan’s lovely PR diarrhoea, as it was now fondly called, would just be the first. Because the next PR dilemma was saying that Minhyun couldn’t be King. And the dilemma after that would be _explaining_ why he couldn’t be King.

It was no secret to anybody that something was wrong with Minhyun. It was clear and visible. But so far, it had been kept under wraps. When the public found out about the poor Prince’s Angelman syndrome, it could be disastrous. The press would have a field day.

And then as an extra dollop of cream on the sundae, _Jun would become King._

It was the secret nightmare of the family. Nobody would ever say it out loud, but it had been Joshua’s greatest fear when he rose to the throne that someday it would fall into Jun’s hands.

There wasn’t anything technically wrong with him: not that any medical professionals could prove, in any case. But the boy had the name _bloodthirsty_ for a reason.

As a child, he did his best to destroy soft toys or dolls – sending his older brother Minhyun into a terrible state each time. When he grew a little older, living animals became his next target. When he popped a squirrel’s head off its body at a birthday event – Joshua and Jeonghan’s, if memory served – and stood on a table to display his victory with blood running down his face and hands, it was the last straw.

Jun enjoyed blood. He enjoyed death. He enjoyed brutal pain and torture, whichever way he could administer it. He’d been taught to reign it in while he was young, but when he became King, nobody would be safe. It was like the blond nightmare from Game of Thrones in real life.

So, for as long as they could, they were stalling. The hot summer months passed.

Every now and then, Jihoon would be allowed to work a day at Triple C. It wasn’t very often he was allowed to go finish his contract, but sometimes he managed to get a day alone. After all the recent deaths, everybody was coming to terms with the fact that no amount of security was going to save the royals from their deaths.

So Wonwoo didn’t have to see Soonyoung, and Jihoon had hours of escape from the hellish cage he now called home. It didn’t help. Nothing did. He was walking, and talking, for Dino’s sake if nobody else’s, but he was empty. He was just functioning on the surface, a hollow carcass on the inside.

At least Hayi had a spring in her step.

Jihoon was multi-tasking: he was teaching Seungkwan how to roast the Blue Mountain properly, creating latte foam art _and_ mixing a number of drinks for later when he heard it.

The shouting started off as an incomprehensible mumble down the street: it became louder with heavy, quick footsteps that made the pavement shake. His words were clear before he even showed up.

“Soonyoung! _Soonyoung!”_ He crashed in through the door, almost taking it off its hinges in his hurry. “Soonyoung! Get me Wonwoo’s number I have to-”

It felt stupid, but Jihoon’s heart made a little sound. A little thump. His jaw dropped.

Seungcheol was, impossibly, more beautiful than ever before.

First off, he was _huge_. Thick. His shoulders were impossibly wide, now; his hair was getting long enough for his fringe to dip into his eyes; his muscles were bulging out from his clothing and somehow his facial features were even sharper. He was dripping with sweat, standing there, staring at him.

At _him_. The liar. The betrayer. Seungcheol was staring at him.

And then suddenly the florist was behind the counter, gripping Jihoon to his chest. “You’re alive,” he croaked out, wrapping one arm around the barista’s waist, the other stroking his hair. “You’re alive! You’re alive! God, you’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive!”

To be fair, Jihoon should have yelled at him. Things like _what the hell are you doing_ or _what is happening right now_ or even a simple _what the fuck?_ would suffice.

But Seungcheol still smelled of lilies and hyacinths, and his arms were still heaven around his waist, and his heartbeat still drummed the same, and he was still _home_.

So Jihoon stood there with a bottle of cream liqueur in one hand and a spoon in the other, letting himself be cradled by the man who had dumped his ass.

“Jihoon, Jihoon, you’re alive, you’re alive!”

“Yes,” the Prince whispered. “Of course I’m alive. W-what’s…?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened and he let go, suddenly taking a step away in sheer embarrassment. “There was a huge bomb in the palace. It was just on the news. I just… I just… I- I have to get back to the shop!” He tried to dash away, turned once to _bow_ , and then got out of the café as soon as possible.

Jihoon was left standing there feeling all sorts of confused before gently putting down the items in his hands. “Seungkwan,” he said slowly, “I have to make a phone call. Be right back.”

Wonwoo wasn’t picking up. That was a bad sign.

“H-hello?”

“Dino, baby, it’s Jihoon.”

Silence.

“Dino? Dino, baby?”

“We’re alright.” Dino cleared his throat. “Don’t worry. We were out when it happened. Hayi and Shannon and Jun and Minhyun, we’re all fine.”

Jihoon paled. “Jeonghan?”

“He was inside the building, but the explosion wasn’t near his room. He texted earlier. He’s fine, just not allowed to leave his room.”

Jihoon breathed out slowly, sitting down a moment. “God, oh, God.”

“Don’t worry. We’re fine. A little shaken, that’s all. We’re at the police office, waiting for reports. Uh… I think Hayi wants to speak with you.”

“Put her on. Love you, Dino baby.”

“Love you too.”

The next voice was from a Princess. “Don’t you even think about leaving work for this,” was the first thing she said. “There’s no point. We won’t have anything to tell you. We’re all fine.”

It took Jihoon a moment. “Wonwoo isn’t picking up his cell phone.”

“That’s because he’s in the hospital. No visitors allowed yet. I’ll text you when there’s an update on that. Don’t worry, it’s not fatal. He got some glass lodged in his stomach. But he did manage to text Jeonghan once. He’ll be alright.”

Jihoon rubbed his forehead. “You can just handle anything, can’t you?”

“Really, Jihoon.”

“Hayi?”

“Yes?”

“…keep my brothers safe. Please.”

“Of course. They’re my brothers too, you know.”

 

The days were getting shorter, the sky falling dark earlier. The sun was almost all gone by the time Jihoon was left to himself in the café. The sign read _closed_ and the barista was simply cleaning the countertop.

Seungcheol stared in from the glass for a few moments before gently knocking.

There it was again. That serious _clunk_ in Jihoon’s chest that showed that maybe, just _maybe_ , he was still alive somewhere inside.

He hurried to the door to unlock and open it, just standing there for a moment.

“…hey,” Seungcheol said quietly.

“Hey.”

A moment of silence passed.

“…is it okay for me to… come in?”

“Yes! Yes, of course.” Jihoon stepped out of the way and closed the door behind him again. He felt eternally stupid, fixing his hair, throwing his towel down on the counter and hurriedly taking off his apron. “Uh, I uh, I was just um… finishing up.”

“Yeah. I know. I just closed down too.” Seungcheol wasn’t sure where to look. “I just uh… came by to, uh…”

Jihoon gently folded his apron and put it on the counter. “…can I offer you some coffee?”

Seungcheol thought about it. “…how about a cup of tea?”

 

It was almost a perfect recreation of their first date. It was dark out, they were alone, drinking hot beverages together in the first booth.

Seungcheol looked up, expression drawn in surprise. “I just… I can’t believe you’re alive.”

Jihoon gulped. “D-don’t worry. None of the royal family got hurt.”

“Ah.” Seungcheol’s gaze went back to his cup, and Jihoon followed suit. “Awkward,” he eventually mumbled.

Jihoon snorted. “Yeah.”

“…what’s the uh, the official title? It’s Highness, right?”

“God, please.” Jihoon closed his eyes. “Just call me Jihoon.”

“Alright.” The florist took a deep breath. “Last time we were here… _Jihoon_ … I said some things that weren’t fair. And… I’m sorry.”

“No, no, God, no.” Jihoon’s fingers curled around his skull unhappily. “I’m the one who’s supposed to apologize to _you_ not the other way around.”

“Can you please listen to me?”

Jihoon’s jaw snapped shut audibly.

“…things are different. Now. I mean you’re… you’re a Prince! You’re a goddamn prince! And me, I’m just… just a florist. Ah-ah-ah! You were going to listen, remember?” Seungcheol took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s some kind of Cinderella syndrome. But… I started to think back. Walking with you. Talking with you. And… I miss that. I miss it so much. I miss your eyes, your hands, your voice… all of it. I miss my boyfriend. The man I love. And… I just want to know whether there’s any part of him left for me to talk to.”

When Jihoon looked up, tears were crawling down his face. “There’s so much you don’t know. So much… you don’t understand.”

“Just tell me.”

“Yes. Yes! God, yes! It’s _me_ , it’s all me, it’s always been _me_. I’m not a _prince_ kind of person. I was born to it, but not like it! All I want to do in my life is make coffee and create art. That’s all!”

Seungcheol leaned over the table to hold his hand. “Your fingers… your little hand and your lovely, beautiful fingers… I missed you. Is it alright to hold your hand?”

“Has it ever not been?” Jihoon looked up, wiping his face with his other hand. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told you. I love you. You’re my everything, my life, my soulmate. You’re where I belong. And nothing could ever change that. So yes, hold me hand if you want to. It’s the only place I feel safe.”

Seungcheol looked up. “I want you back.”

“…I can come back? You’ll take me back?” Jihoon looked up. “But…”

“Jihoonie.” Seungcheol picked up the Prince’s hand, gently kissing his fingers. “…I love you too, baby.”

“Seungcheol!” Jihoon hurried around the table to hug him: the alpha pulled his lover onto his lap. “Seungcheol, Seungcheol. Seungcheol!”

“Shhhhhh, baby.” The alpha gripped him tightly. “It’s alright. I’m here now. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t take good care of you like I promised. But I’m here now. Shhhhhh.”

Jihoon simply sat there in his lap for a long time, hugging him tightly to his chest. “I love you,” he said feebly.

“I love you too, darling.”

“I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything about me. So that you can understand.”

Seungcheol smiled gently, leaning down until his forehead touched Jihoon’s. “I want to _know_ everything about you, too. I want to know everything about my little barista. Every single thing. I want to know what makes you wake up in the morning, what makes you smile, what makes your eyes glow. I want to know your name, and I want to love you forever and ever.”

Jihoon took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I love you, Seungcheol. So much. But… you’re forgetting…”

“…ah, yeah. The Princess.”

“Hayi. You met her.”

“…actually, I have her phone number. We text.”

“…excuse me?”

Seungcheol blushed. “A few days after we met here, she came into the shop. We talked. Exchanged phone numbers. We’ve been texting. She’s delightful. I hear you flew her boyfriend over from China for her.”

Jihoon stared in surprise. “…y-yeah, it made her happy, so…”

Seungcheol played a little with Jihoon’s hair. “…you really do love her like a sister, huh?”

“Of course.” Jihoon pulled a face that showed just how much pain he was in. “She was there for me when you weren’t.”

Seungcheol had to take a deep breath at that before he could change the subject. “Hey. The thing that’s going on. With… all the murders and stuff.”

Jihoon shuddered.

“…Hayi said… you might need to talk about it. You bottle your emotions up inside you, Jihoon. I know you do, I’ve seen you do it. But you don’t ever work through them. I want you to know that… if you need to, I’m right here. If you need to talk. If you need to… it doesn’t matter. I’m here for you.”

At that Jihoon gripped his lover tightly. It took him a few moments, and then it all came out. “My brothers,” he whispered. “My beautiful, beautiful brothers are dying. They’re _dying_ , Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol allowed Jihoon to rest his face in his shoulder, holding him tightly. “Shhhhh.”

Jihoon’s little hands became fists as he gripped on, body starting to shake. “My brothers are dead,” he breathed, haunted. “My brothers are dead.”

Seungcheol held on to the man he loved while the omega howled his fear and terror into the abyss.


	24. Childhood

**WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF CHILD ABUSE IN THE FIRST HALF OF THIS CHAPTER.**

* * *

 

Jihoon was in his own seat again, warming his hands around a new, hot cup of tea.

“When I was born,” he said softly, “and they do your blood, you know?”

“…I’m not up to date on ABO chemistry,” the alpha blushed. “Fill me in.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes a little, but explained anyway. “When a baby is born, there is an added gene on the X chromosome. This gene is either an alpha gene or an omega gene. It controls whether somebody will bulk up easily or not, whether they will be feisty or more go-with-the-flow. It controls whether you are a fierce warrior, or slightly more… introverted. Now, when there are two X chromosomes present – indicating a little girl – two of the genes cast each other out, and they become a beta, which is completely neutral. _Alright_?”

Seungcheol went even redder. It really was basic. “Alright.”

Jihoon sighed a little. “Aron was the perfect child, and Nana was austere but oh so pretty. Joshua was her favorite child, and Jeonghan was… well, _Jeonghan_. Yoonjo was gorgeous, too. Minhyun… well, you’ll find out someday soon, so I might as well tell you. He has a mental disability. It’s called Angelman’s syndrome. It doesn’t show up real quick or anything, so the Queen was pregnant again with Jun when they found out.

“She didn’t do so well. She takes the whole _natural order of birth_ real sharp. She couldn’t believe that she had given birth to a boy like him.” Jihoon’s hands became little fists. “There’s nothing wrong with Minhyun. He’s beautiful. He has such a kind heart. And he just wants to play and love. That’s all he wants. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s beautiful. He really is. And the Queen, well… she called him all kinds of terrible things. Terrible things, Seungcheol. Things I’d never repeat.”

Seungcheol urged him past the deeply disturbing topic. “So she was pregnant with the Bloodthirsty Prince?”

“Yeah. When she gave birth to Jun and he turned out to be an entirely healthy boy, she didn’t mind trying again. I guess she thought she could just lock Minhyun up and forget about him. But when she gave birth to me – when they did the blood test and found out I was an _omega_ … she slipped into a very bad depression.

“It was worse than giving birth to somebody with a disability, for her. She had given birth to a _weakling_. To be honest, if you’re going to have seven sons and ten children in total, at least _one_ is bound to be an omega. But she saw it as a flaw of her own body she didn’t want to remember. She _hated_ my existence. It took her ten years to try for another child.”

A moment of silence passed as Jihoon drank his tea.

“There’s nothing wrong with being an omega,” Seungcheol said quietly.

“There’s an unpopular opinion,” Jihoon smiled gently. “Most people see us as a genetic fault. A recessive gene that will one day go extinct.”

Seungcheol made a pained face.

“My mother… well, they call it torture. I was held to the greatest standards, especially when I was younger, and punished badly when I didn’t make the cut. When I was four years old, my mother told me to play Midnight Sonata on the piano.

“She took me into the bathroom, filled up the bathtub, and held me under water for minutes at a time. That was my punishment for not being able to play the piano. It was ten minutes before somebody found us and saved me. I’d been under the water for an entire minute. Much longer and she would have drowned me.

“One time she made me hold a target for Jeonghan’s shooting practice. The whole family was there to see, but she held sway over them and forced him to fire at me. Jeonghan wasn’t a good shot. Didn’t you ever wonder how I got that scar over my right hip?” The Prince gave a sad smile. “Jeonghan’s target practice, when I was about ten years old.

“Beating was more regular, and never surprised me. She used to take me out into the inner courtyard and grab a thick bamboo stick. Then she’d tie my hands together to a log there and she’d just beat me. She’d made the whole family watch her do it, too. I can imagine it was as awful for them as it was for me. One time she beat me unconscious. The doctors were afraid I’d sustain some kind of brain damage. I was lucky.”

“ _Lucky,_ ” Seungcheol broke out. It sounded like he was choking on the word.

Jihoon couldn’t stop now. “Her favorite punishment she only pulled out when I smiled as a child. She would take me away to where nobody would find her and… well. She would break my legs. I had to learn how to walk again by the age of six. By that time I’d already learned not to smile. Why should I smile, when my existence was such a blight on _her_ track record? She enjoyed torturing me. Shave my head. Beat me in front of my family. Drown me. Throw burning tea candles at me. When I grew up – became strong enough to run, hide or pull away from her… she had already had Shannon, a beautiful baby girl. Her wrath cooled to extreme insults and the occasional beating.

“There’s not a hallway or room in that palace that’s safe for me. She lingers everywhere, even now that she’s dead. Every room is saturated with her memory. Physical pain. Mental abuse. All of that.”

“Good _God_ ,” Seungcheol hissed. “How does nobody know about this?”

“Everybody who was ever in the palace for over twenty-four hours during that period knows it. They were all gagged by a confidentiality clause. Even the servants.”

“…wow.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon shrugged. “That’s why they titled me the Dark Prince. They never understood that I wasn’t _allowed_ to smile. And when the most basic human emotion of being happy is denied… well, everything else seems to be stripped away, too. When I left home at eighteen… I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I started off at the Royal Conservatory, but I flunked out pretty quickly. Aron paid for my apartment here. Eventually Soonyoung just came up to me one day and said hey kid, why don’t you become a barista? And it’s history from there.”

Seungcheol could only sit in horror of the story he had just heard.

“I was very happy, here. At Triple C.” Jihoon took a deep breath, looking around. “I learned that it was okay to smile. It was great to smile. Even better to laugh. I learned that there was a whole other part of my persona that lay undiscovered. So I stayed here to discover it. And that part of me – the part that likes to smile and grin and laugh – is, by far, the most preferable part of me. The part I like best. The part I wish I could be for the rest of my life.”

Seungcheol stared at the man he loved.

This poor man who had been tortured as a child could only find happiness in a small artisanal café. It was the only place he could be happy. And now his family was being murdered left right and center, and he couldn’t come here anymore. He couldn’t be happy.

“I love you,” Seungcheol whispered.

Jihoon turned his head with a genuine smile. “I love you too.”

“You’re breath-taking, you know.”

“Hm?”

“You’re breath-taking.” Seungcheol leaned in slightly. “You’re glowing, and you’re breath-taking, and I love you.”

“…no matter what?”

“No matter what.”

“Even though I’m royalty?”

Seungcheol gave a sad kind of smile. “No offence, but I don’t think you’re very royal.”

Jihoon snorted a bit once and nodded. “There’s truth for you. What about Hayi? What if I marry her? _When_ I marry her. I don’t really have a choice.”

“Will _you_ stop loving _me_?”

The barista shook his head. “No. No, I won’t stop loving you. I don’t think I could. Ever.”

“Then that’s that.” The florist folded his arms a little. “I don’t know how we’d do it, but I won’t stop loving you, either. So… somehow, we’re going to have to make it work. Because… I don’t want to lose you. I already gave you up once. That didn’t work out so well for me. So I need you in my life. Is… is that okay?”

“Okay? It’s…” Jihoon was at a loss for words for a while. “…I don’t deserve somebody like you. Somebody who loves me so much – is so _dedicated_ … I…”

Seungcheol gave his lover a simple look. “Jihoon, I’m not a complicated man. I didn’t have a terrible childhood, and I’m not an undercover royal. I’m a very simple man. My parents live in Gangnam with my baby brother, and I live in Hongdae. I run a florist shop. I once had the opportunity to design a garden for your brother. My favorite coffee is Java, black. My favorite food is ramen. I’m so… _average_. And I have nothing I could ever give you or offer you. But I want you anyway. Maybe I’m greedy.”

“Nothing?!” Jihoon interrupted, shocked. “Nothing to give or offer? _Nothing_?!”

“Well, no.” Seungcheol floundered. “What could I give a prince he doesn’t already have?”

Jihoon was lost for words again: he got up, walked around, sat down again before leaning over the table. “I grew up in a palace. Growing up royal means living a sham every day of your life. Not only that but everybody _around_ you lives a sham every day of _their_ lives because we all pretend to be happy and good and perfect little brats! Growing up I wasn’t allowed outside. I didn’t feel raindrops until I was eighteen years old, you know that? _Raindrops_. I was living in a gilded cage of terror and despair and pain. I thought… I thought coming out here to Triple C was freedom for me. I felt free. Nobody was going to put me in a cage. I thought I was free. But then I met _you_.”

“…I don’t understand.”

“You! You, you! Being with you is like flying. It’s a whole new level of freedom I didn’t even know existed. I could be anything when I’m with you. Anything! You don’t make me smile because I’m happy, you make me smile because _you_ smile. And when you smile… I’m exuberant! When your eyes crinkle up when you chuckle I feel like singing! When I’m with you… I’m my favorite version of _me_. And I’ve been some pretty awful versions of me.”

Seungcheol moved to pull Jihoon onto his lap: he held him and stroked his hair back. “That’s alright,” he whispered, kissing Jihoon’s cheek. “I don’t care anymore. I _missed_ you, Hoonie. I want to be with you again. Whether it’s your softie version or your barista version or your liar version or your prince version, I want them all.”

Jihoon smiled a little shyly. “Liar version? If I’m a liar, then you’re a thief.”

“Thief? What did I take from you?”

“Bet you can guess.”

“If you say _my heart,_ then you’re officially the cheesy one in this relationship.”

Jihoon thought about it for a moment. “Damn it.”

Seungcheol laughed, kissing Jihoon’s side profile over and over. “God, I missed you, Jihoon.” He closed his eyes slowly, holding the omega close. “I missed your voice so much.”

“…missed you too. Seungcheol… I really do believe it.”

“What?”

“Soulmates.”

Seungcheol smiled. “Me, too.” And for the first time in months, they kissed.

 

“…well. You look _pissed_.”

Wonwoo observed him for a moment, slapping the comic down on the hospital sheets. “…who’s guarding you?”

“Mingyu.”

“ _Kim_ Mingyu? God, I need to get out of here. Can’t trust Mingyu with anything.” Wonwoo smiled happily. “Those for me?”

“Yeah. Figured they would brighten up your room.” Jihoon put the sweet bouquet of flowers down on the table and hopped up to sit on the edge of the bed. “So?”

“Shard of glass in the pancreas – no worries, I’ll be making a full recovery.” The bodyguard rolled his eyes. “They’ll be letting me go day after tomorrow, if I’m lucky.”

Jihoon pursed his lips and nodded. “Get well soon, okay? Can’t have the best man at my wedding looking down.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “Best man?”

“Are you saying you won’t be?”

He blinked. “I thought one of your brothers…”

“Promised Dino he could be the ring bearer,” Jihoon grimaced. “I want to save Minhyun the embarrassment, and Jun…”

“Right. Good point.”

“I would ask Jeonghan, but he’s not doing well right now.”

Wonwoo took a deep breath. “Wow. Preparations are really going along now, hm? How long is there still?”

“Well, it’s going to be a December wedding. About four months left.” Jihoon swung his legs in the air aimlessly. “Hayi is enjoying the preparations. I’m not allowed to do anything but stand at the right place and say the right words.”

Wonwoo snorted and grinned. “Suppose so. A little bird told me you were at the Triple C till late last night?”

“Haven’t slept, actually.” Jihoon wasn’t even embarrassed. “We broke at six this morning. Lizzy yelled at me for not sleeping. Kicked me out. Went and had breakfast together before I came here.”

Wonwoo nodded. “That all sorted?”

“Kinda. Not really.” The barista sighed. “…how do we still… with the marriage, and… it’s all very complicated.”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo sighed for his friend too. “Hey, you didn’t tell Soonyoung I’m-”

“No.” The Prince shook his head. “That would be unnecessary pain for both of you. I didn’t tell him you were here. Don’t worry.”

The omega nodded warily. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Jihoon patted Wonwoo’s shoulder.

The two sat together for a moment.

“I’m going to go bored out of my skull,” Wonwoo complained. “When are you gonna spring me out of here like-”

The door suddenly flew open. Mingyu stood in the doorway, holding out a cellphone. “Your highness, sir. It’s your baby brother.”

Jihoon hopped off to take the call. “Dino?”

There was a little murmuring sound on the other head, but high-pitched, like a groan.

“Dino? Kid, it’s okay, it’s me.”

“Everybody’s dying,” a terrified little voice said.

Jihoon’s body went ice-cold. “What? Dino, baby, what?”

It took the eleven-year-old a moment. “Hayi is being put into an ambulance. She’s bleeding.”


	25. September 14th

**Warning: the following chapter may begin with unsettling graphic images of blood/internal organs.**

* * *

Jihoon wasn’t in a sweat by the time the ambulance came in with Hayi strapped to a stretcher, but he felt like he was. He felt like he was stewing in sweat. Dying with it. His internal thermostat was _fucked_. Heart pounding wildly.

Dino hadn’t lied. There was a lot of blood. Jihoon was only allowed to observe from the side-lines, but her clothes were ruined with it, and the smell of blood was so pervasive it made the prince gag.

Mingyu allowed him to duck into a bathroom and return in his royal garb: in the state of being the fiancé he was allowed to watch from a high room with a glass window as his beloved to-be was operated upon. In reality, he didn’t look at her. He just stared at the floor, hands clasped together in front of him, listening.

The doctors were giving a play-by-play.

“We will now attempt to remove what seems to be an unidentified metal bar from the patient’s hip. Oh, God. The object is located in the patient’s uterus. Stand by. More suction.”

They labored over the girl for sixteen hours, pulling pieces of shrapnel out of her and attempting to stem the blood so it didn't pout out of her like a sieve. Mingyu took his calls for him. Jihoon was in no way ready to be phoning people.

Hayi had part of a crow-bar lodged in her uterus _through_ the stomach, and had several wounds in the chest. She had been caught running through the ruined palace hallways towards the kitchens when a secondary, minor explosion had gone off. She was riddled with holes, but somehow, oh God somehow she was still breathing.

Hayi was still breathing. Still moving after the operation was done and the exhausted surgeons took their gloves off in relief. She was feisty. She refused to give up. Not for anything. Nor for anyone. Hayi was still going.

It wasn’t until after she had been moved to the IC unit and was on life support that he dared pick up his phone.

“Dino, baby?”

“Jihoon.” The boy was barely holding it together.

“Dino, where are you all staying?”

“…the courthouse. The big one.”

“Kid, I am coming to you. Stay put, alright? I’m coming to get you.” The boy’s strides were so quick that even the long-legged Mingyu had to work to keep up. “Mingyu,” he growled. “Start the car. I need to be at the courthouse now.”

“Right now?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

 

There were a set of rooms in the courthouse that had been locked and sealed from any assailants, and were guarded 24/7. They had been re-decorated in record time to accommodate for the royals that were staying there for the time being.

Uncle Heechul sat on a chair on the other side of the room. Jun was outside on the phone. Dino was curled up on the bed under Jihoon’s left arm. Minhyun was curled up under his right. Shannon sat at the end of the bed.

With the two boys asleep, Jihoon had to be very soft. “Shannon. Shannon, sweetheart?”

The girl looked up.

Jihoon gulped. “…you know that being royal sometimes means doing the thing you least like doing, right?”

Fear set in the young teen’s eyes. “What are you going to do?!”

“Shhhhh. Nothing bad.” The Prince took a deep breath. “I’m going to make arrangements for you to fly to Tokyo.”

Surprise drew itself on her face, but with little resistance.

“It’ll be good for you to meet Saato Hikaru in real life. I’m sure the palace will welcome you with open arms. And…”

“And it’s safer there than it is here,” the little girl sensed.

“Yes. And it’s safer there.”

“I agree,” an elderly voice chimed in. “Shannon, it’s time you were removed from such pain. We have no plausible cause to send any of your brothers away, but you at least can go have a holiday. Hmm?”

The stress the last year had caused the family was deeply etched in the dark circles of Jihoon’s skin, the permanently confused look on Minhyun’s face and the fear in Dino’s eyes, but it had changed nobody like it had changed Uncle Heechul. A year ago, he had been a spritely man. Fit, for his age at least, well-dressed at all times, tall, prominent, and an avid tea-lover. Now he was bent over a cane like a little old man, wasted away. He’d lost weight, gained wrinkles and age spots, and finally was looking his age. Uncle Heechul had withered under the weight of his family being under threat.

Shannon thought about it. “…I don’t want to leave you guys,” she whispered. “I don’t know if when I come back, you’ll still be… _here_.”

It fell deathly silent. Neither of the men in the room, young or old, had the wisdom to know what to say to her. She was only thirteen. _Only thirteen_.

“Never mind.” Shannon flipped her hair over one shoulder and pulled out her phone like any petulant teenager. “I’ll go.”

Jihoon looked at her. Her skin was showing dry patches. She had been out in the sun too much this year. “Shannon, kid?”

“Hmm?”

“Look at me.”

The girl looked up.

“I love you, you know. Your big brothers – all love you.”

It was the first time that Shannon cried in front of other people in a year.

 

Two days later, Jihoon met his little sister on the tarmac. It was a private send-off: details would be published later after an official statement.

“Take care of yourself.”

“…still no change?”

“Just came from the hospital.” Jihoon shook his head. “She’s hanging on.”

Shannon pulled a wisp of hair out of her face. “I love you. You have to text me every day. Alright?”

“You too. And no funny business.” He hugged his little sister, hard. “Shannon, I need you to do me a favour.”

“What’s that?”

“…I have another passenger I need you to take care of.”

When Jihoon ducked into his limo and pulled him out, Shannon almost took a step back in shock. “Jihoon!” she crowed. “You can’t!”

The Dark Prince stood there with his haemophiliac brother, dead asleep in his arms. “Please.”

“Jihoon.” The girl held up her hands. “You can’t _live_ without Dino, and he’ll just get himself into all sorts of trouble without you. You’ll be _useless_ if Dino isn’t near-by.”

“Shannon. I need you to take him with you and keep him safe. Alright? I’ve packed all his things, and enough medication for the haemophilia to last you several years until you can requisition more in Japan. I’m _begging_ you.”

She hesitated.

“I drugged him. He’ll be asleep for hours. You’ll have touched down before he wakes up. Promise. I wrote him a letter so you don’t have to explain anything.”

The girl took a deep breath and sighed. “Fine. Get him on the plane.”

 

 **Seungcheol:** I just heard on the news. I’m sorry. I know how much he meant to you.

 **Jihoon:** His safety is all that matters now.

 **Seungcheol:** How’s my lover’s future wife doing?

 **Jihoon:** Still going. Losing strength. The doctors aren’t happy. She should be dead. They… want her to just let go. If she lives, she won’t ever have a normal life. She’ll be on medical apparatus for the rest of her existence.

 **Seungcheol:** God. But I like Hayi. She’s sweet and a little rebel.

 **Jihoon:** Yeah.

 **Seungcheol:** Are you with her now?

 **Jihoon:** Yeah.

 **Seungcheol:** Like some company?

 **Jihoon:** …would you mind? I would really like some company, actually.

He had barely sent the text before footsteps were in the hallway; only about a minute later the door yielded, and Mingyu popped his head inside. “Did you order coffee?”

Jihoon chuckled. “Let him in.”

“Alright.”

Seungcheol was holding a tray on top of a cardboard box; on the tray there was a large French press, a steaming hot kettle of water, coffee and two cups. “I thought you’d enjoy a pick-me-up.”

The smile on Jihoon’s face was nothing but utterly thankful. “Hello, handsome.” The door was already shut, so he got up and kissed the man he loved. “Thanks for coming. How’d you get here so fast?”

“Isn’t it inappropriate to kiss in front of your unconscious fiancée?” the alpha smirked.

“I asked you a question.”

“Ooh, feisty and commanding.” Seungcheol growled happily, taking a seat. “I was already in the hospital, actually. Just waiting for you to OK me.”

“You brought a French press?”

“I thought making coffee would make you feel better.”

The boy took the items and gently placed them on the small table at the end of Hayi’s bed, instantly making himself busy with brewing. “Mm, Brazilian. Good choice. Epic. What’s in the box?”

“Something special I brought for the woman who’s going to keep the man I love looking good in front of the public.”

“ _Nobody_ could make me look good to the public.” Jihoon watched as Seungcheol carried a large, heavy-looking black stone bowl in both hands to the Princess’ bedside table. When he moved away, a beautiful water lotus was drifting on the surface. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know it’s her favorite.”

“Yeah.”

The two sat and had coffee: Jihoon mainly just rested his little head on his lover’s shoulder.

“What are we gonna do?”

“Well,” Jihoon mumbled, “I think it’s time I appointed a new man to do the flowers in the palace. It’ll need some sprucing up, what with half of it being blown to pieces.”

Seungcheol snorted. “Really?”

“Sure. The person who does our flowers is on maternity leave. Jun doesn’t give a shit about flowers so he never replaced her. I’ll do your paperwork myself.”

“Hey, now,” the florist scowled. “I don’t want it like this. It feels cheap. Like I’m getting it only because you’re my boyfriend.”

Jihoon pursed his lips. “It’s a great way to sneak you into the palace so I can get my fair share of dick before I’m old enough to snap a hipbone?”

Seungcheol thought about that. “Deal.”

They talked coffee, for a while; then flowers. It seemed that Vernon was now frequenting Triple C in Seungcheol’s stead, and was staying a little longer than necessary.

“How old’s that kid, anyway?”

“About sixteen. Why?”

“Ah.” Jihoon smiled. “He’s an alpha, right? He must have a thing for Seungkwan.”

“Your delivery kid?”

“Yeah.”

Seungcheol snorted.

Jihoon checked his watch and sighed. “It’s past midnight already.”

“Yeah? So?”

Jihoon curled a sad smile onto his face. “Today is the day of our first date. Omitting a few months of turmoil in between, we’ve been a couple for a solid year already.”

“Wow. A year.”

“Yup. September fourteenth.”

Seungcheol smiled. “Happy anniversary, baby. I love you.”

“…love you, too.”

They sat in silence, slight whirring and beeping sounds coming from the machines that held Hayi’s life together.

“The doctors say there’s no use fighting. It would be better if she just went.” Jihoon took a shaky breath. “It’s not going to get any better from here on out. She’s holding on for something and nobody knows what anymore.”

Seungcheol put his cup down and gently wrapped his arms around his little omega. “I’m sorry, my love. I know how much you love her.”

“Like a sister.”

“Yes. I know.” Seungcheol squeezed him a bit. “This is so wrong. All of this is so wrong! And do you know what the worst part is, hmm? The _worst_ part? Is that everybody looks _down_ on you for being omega. As if that changes anything. All this death and tabloids are still picking on you for being the omega, a _weakling_. I wish you could stick one to them. Show them what you’re made of.”

Jihoon smiled innocently. “And what am I made of?”

“You? Iron and steel! You’re unbreakable. You’re glorious and gorgeous and wonderful and capable.” Seungcheol kissed his cheek. “You could best anybody at anything. _Especially_ at making coffee. Why I’m sure if the Prince Jun the Bloodthirsty didn’t wat the throne, you would make an excellent king.”

“Don’t be _silly_ ,” Jihoon murmured. “I’d be an awful king. They wouldn’t want me.”

“Now _you’re_ being silly. You’d be very good at it. You’re a very level-headed young man. You’re beautiful, you’re sexy, you know the difference between right and wrong, and you’d do anything for your country. You’ve already proven that.” Seungcheol cuddled the man. “I think you would be a perfect king. And… can I step out of line?”

“Sure.”

“I think you’d be a far better king than Jun.”

The Dark Prince grimaced. “…yeah, I’m scared of it too. Especially with Hayi like… this…”

Seungcheol gulped at the prospect. “Just… make sure you don’t get hurt, alright? You’re my everything. You’re the coffee to my cup, alright?” Seungcheol stroked his lover’s face. “Without you, I’m empty and sad.”

Jihoon chuckled a moment, but smiled tiredly. “…yeah. I love you too, darling.” The Prince sighed, staring at the dying Princess on the bed for a moment. “…I think I know what I have to do.”

“…for what?”

“To get Hayi to let go. To allow her to move on peacefully. So she doesn’t feel pain anymore.”

Seungcheol gulped. “…can you let her go the same day you flew Dino off to Japan?”

Jihoon’s fingers became a little tighter around Seungcheol’s hand. “…will you stay with me?”

“Forever.”

“Then… yes. Let’s end Hayi’s suffering and make sure she knows she’s loved.”


	26. Goodbye, Angel | Stay With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background music for this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pB-5XG-DbAA

Jihoon stood, gripping Seungcheol’s hand. He had probably cut off all the blood circulation in the man’s fingers, but he couldn’t give that much attention. If it really hurt, Seungcheol would have said something by now. He just stood there, tears dripping down his face. Waiting for his last sister to leave. Waiting for his last little piece of hope to go to heaven.

Wu Yifan sat down in the chair next to Hayi’s bed, and took her hand in between both of his own. He spoke softly in Mandarin – too soft and too complex for the Prince to understand. Jihoon wasn’t sure if he imagined the fingers moving at first, until they grabbed the tall barista’s. After five long minutes, a constant beep fell still. The man snipped the water lotus from its stem and gently placed it on her chest before he fell forward to howl at the dead Princess’ body.

 

For an eternity now, there had been a balance between the pain and numbness. I was numb enough not to move, not to think, and to not feel emotion, but searing pain still scalded my legs, stomach and lungs every time air was pumped into my body. I could feel that breathing was not a conscious choice: it was being done for me, and I didn’t mind, because I knew I couldn’t do it myself. There seemed to be pain everywhere, but if I didn’t think too hard about it, it seemed to fade away to a thrumming in the background. Like when you leave an electric fan on for so long, you don’t really notice the white noise anymore.

Sometimes there were voices. I wanted to focus on them to distract from the eternal darkness I was lying in, this pool of black. There was nothing here but _me_ and to be honest, I love me. No, really. I fucking _love_ me. I’m great. But being with myself 24/7 is a bit of a pain, ‘cause I don’t _ever_ shut up, even when I have nothing to say. And when you get to the sixth hummed rendition of the Darth Vader Theme Tune, you kinda wanna stab yourself. And also, focusing on voices when you’re in the greatest abyss of all time is really, _really_ fucking difficult. It takes a lot of energy, and I just can’t expend it.

But now I paid attention. More than ever before. Because I knew this voice, far better than any of the others, the voice of soft candlelight and brilliant sunlight and mysterious moonlight. The voice that tasted of butter and sang the greatest tunes no man had ever heard before. The other voices I’d heard could have been Jihoon, or Shannon, or Big Sister Nana from the grave, or my father the King for all I knew, and I wouldn’t recognize them. But this one I knew as if it had been born in my soul, as if was still attached to my innermost self. Like it was forcing me to come to the surface.

I had no choice. My consciousness was rising, floating, like the rocks that held me pinned to the table were gone. The immense pressure and weight on me had dissolved into nothing, and I was rising. I couldn’t see where I was going, but it was most definitely _up_. I’d already been down as far as I could go.

“Hayi,” his voice said. His beautiful, deep, dark, _beautiful_ voice. “Hayi, my darling. I’m here. Yifan is here.”

I wanted to cry, and scream. Because I couldn’t remember details about people’s voices or their faces, but I remembered his. I remembered his smile and the smell of his coffee and the stupid way he tied his apron too high and how he always served coffee in the little grass-green cup because it was his favorite and he wanted me to have his favorite cup. I remembered _everything_. What his skin felt like on mine. What it felt like to have him speak, and the rumble from his lungs press against my back. What it was like when he tucked my hair behind my ear. The color of the bright red ribbon he gave me for my twentieth birthday, and the cake they made for me at his café. I remembered the way he would secure my mustard yellow scarf around my neck _just_ right and how he would give me piggy-backs when it snowed. The day he took me ice-skating and I kept falling on my ass until I couldn’t even feel it anymore. Or that one really big fight we had one summer during his annual barbecue that made me so mad I went home instantly. Or the time a little old lady bustled in on our date, read our tea leaves and told us we were meant to be together forever, throughout the ages. I remembered all of it. Every second with him.

 _Yifan_. I wanted to scream. I wanted to get to him. Why couldn’t I get to him? I was still floating towards the surface, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. The darkness wasn’t brightening. There was just more black that echoed my thoughts on forever. _Yifan, Yifan where are you? Yifan! WHERE ARE YOU? I’M HERE, YIFAN. I’M HERE._

His voice didn’t stop, though.

“Hayi, you know that I love you. I know you love me. There’s never been anything like _us_ before. Not in all of history, or between all the stars. Nobody has had a love so pure for a goddess like you. And I would do _anything_ , called upon any God and sold my soul, to take your place right now.”

 _Well, that isn’t very nice,_ I thought, stopping short. _Black doesn’t suit you, Yifan. You’d be bored to death here._

“Hayi, I know you can hear me. We can hear each other’s souls cry for each other, no matter what. That’s how God meant for it to be, for us. So I want you to listen to me carefully.”

 _I’m listening, Yifan._ There was just more floating, more darkness, but the timbre of his voice made me feel calm. _I’m listening, my One and Only._

“You have to let go now.” Yifan was having a hard time breathing. He’d had pneumonia earlier in the year, in the winter, so his lungs were a little touch-and-go with seasonal changes. “Are you listening, my pearl? Can you hear me? You can let go now. It’s alright baby.”

 _Let go?_ I didn’t understand. _What am I supposed to let go of? I’m in the middle of nothing. I’m trapped in my mind. It’s all dark, Yifan. What am I supposed to let go of?_

“The doctors say it’s time now, sweetheart. It’s okay. Don’t worry about me! I’ll go back home, to the café, and I’ll see you in some years’ time. Until then, I’m telling you to wait for me, alright? I always said you were an angel in this life, and now you really will be an angel. So when you get to heaven, you _have_ to wait for me, alright? Be my good angel and wait for me. But it’s time to go now, sweetheart. So that it won’t hurt anymore.”

 _Oh. I’m dying? Well, that **sucks**. Totally not part of the plan. Like… do you know how many flavors of ice-cream I haven’t even tasted yet? Do you know I’ve never even been on a bouncy castle? Hot damn._ Something in my hunkered down: not in denial, but in protest. _Not yet,_ I thought towards him, metaphorically gritting my teeth with determination. _I can’t go yet. I have one more thing to do. I don’t care about the ice-cream, or the bouncy castle. I’ve got one more thing I have to do before I go._

“Please,” Yifan begged me.

It was tough. So tough. It seemed to be black everywhere. But then suddenly I was hitting the light over and over, though the darkness tried to consume me every time I came up for air. The light disappeared so often, I couldn’t even open my eyes. But my body pulled the rest of me up into the shredded carcass that was left in the real world.

And it hurt like _hell_. Every cell seemed to be crying out for me to just die. No human could take this kind of pain.

Somewhere in my blistered and broken body, I found my fingers. They were near his. Just a little more. Just a little more.

His skin wasn’t pleasant on mine. My hands were sore. But he let out a little breath of surprise.

My lips moved. It stung. I had a huge cut on the inside of my cheek. Possibly _through_ my cheek. But my lips moved.

 _Wo ai ni, Yifan_ I tried to tell him. _Wo ai ni._

“Yes,” he whispered. “I love you too. It’s time to go now.”

 _Time to go. Yes._ And then the darkness took me back and I left my body.

I struggled. Some tiny part of me inside tried to struggle, but I could hear his words echoing in the darkness. _It’s time to go now, Hayi_. So I let the darkness take me.

It didn’t hurt. I just became less, and less. Like I was losing myself. But it was… peaceful. Almost a relief to let the pain go.

 _“Goodbye, angel._ ”

The darkness took the last piece of me, forever.

 

Yifan was given a number of hours to mourn by himself, while Jihoon spent his last grievances in Seungcheol’s arms outside. Five or six hours later, the Prince ventured back into the room and pressed his palm to Yifan’s shoulder softly, waking him.

“Huh?”

“Sh,” Jihoon mumbled. “You need to leave.”

“No.” He gripped the dead girl’s arm. “Hayi.”

“You need to go back to China. Tonight.” Jihoon’s whisper left no room for hesitation. “In twenty-four hours there will be war. You need to go home before that happens.”

Yifan seemed to understand that, but looked back at his beloved again, as if he could not bear to part with her body.

“…she’ll be buried in China,” Jihoon promised.

With that promise, Yifan stood and nodded. “Thank you.”

Jihoon handed him a brown envelope. “Your last pay check. Thank you for loving Hayi.”

Yifan leaned down and hugged the Prince once. “You, too. For loving my angel.”

 

China declared war before Hayi had been dead for 24 hours. Jun was ecstatic, and had the border militarized in less than ten hours. He was crowned in a private ceremony the next day.

Prince Jun the Bloodthirsty was now King Jun the Bloodthirsty.

He waved once more to his adoring crowd that was the public and turned away, showing them his red robe as he walked back into the building.

“God help us,” Jihoon whispered under his breath. “And save our souls.”

Uncle Hee took a deep breath. “No God can save us now.”

 

“Last day at work,” Ren said, forcing a smile on his face. “Sure are gonna miss you around here, kiddo.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna miss being around here, too.” Jihoon breathed deeply, leaning on the countertop. “This really is home, you know?”

“Yeah.” Ren didn’t ask questions. “You’ll come back though, right? To visit? When you can.”

“Of course. I will always be here to critically judge your shitty-ass blend.”

“Thanks, asshole,” the barista grinned.

“Hey, _I’m_ not the one who thinks strawberry and coffee go well together.”

Ren pulled himself up to his full height. “Excuse _me_ ,” he proclaimed haughtily. “Strawberry, coffee _and caramel._ ”

Jihoon put down his teatowel to clap in total sarcasm. “Oh, _por favor_ , great maestro. Make sure you don’t poison anybody.”

“Well if I don’t kill with my drink, you will with your attitude,” the alpha smiled, ribbing his colleague. “Ready for another glorious day of work?”

“One last day of coffee. Here I come!”

 

It was seriously _annoying_ to have to walk on a cane, but then it was also seriously annoying to be in hospital for weeks healing, so that was that. And now at least he could go visit Jihoon at Triple C, where he had been informed the barista would be hiding out for his last day for work before he had to say farewell forever.

But when Wonwoo was inside the café, there was only one person there, and his name wasn’t Jihoon.

“…hey,” the man said softly.

“Uh, hey.” Wonwoo gulped against a lump in his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets a moment. “…Woozi here?”

“Out back, helping Seungkwan with a delivery.” A _very_ awkward silence passed. “Can I get you a coffee while you wait?”

“…sure. Bl-”

“Black Java.” Soonyoung made a point of not looking at his former lover as he went about making the coffee.

Wonwoo cleared his throat a moment, watching him. “So, uh… how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” he answered quickly. A little too quickly. “Doing some new things. I uh, I moved into Woozi’s apartment. And I’ve been taking some, uh… group lessons. Uh, therapy. And doing yoga. And I got a dog.”

“A dog?”

“Yeah. Her name is Melanie. She’s a Dalmatian.”

Wonwoo pulled a surprised face. “…wow. Didn’t really see you for a dog person.”

Soonyoung shrugged, still not looking. “Yeah, well. How about you?”

“I’m good,” Wonwoo answered quickly. A little too quickly.

Soonyoung’s mouth twitched. “Good enough to be standing on a cane?”

“Oh, that. Well, you know. When you’re the bodyguard of a member of the royal family that’s getting murdered off one by one… you get caught up in one explosion or another.”

Soonyoung’s eyes darted up in both shock and pain for only a single second before turning down again. “Oh.”

Wonwoo gulped again. “So are you uh, seeing anybody?”

“No,” the barista answered quietly.

“…right.” Wonwoo made a vague gesture. “You don’t date. I forgot.”

Soonyoung coughed awkwardly. “Well, uh… you?”

“Dating? Nah, not right now. Job’s taking up too much time for that.”

“Right.”

Wonwoo was granted his cup of coffee and he simply sat there at the bar, watching his former lover clean up and do… well, barista-things, whatever that entailed. Wonwoo never wondered. The song on the radio changed so a slower pace just as Soonyoung seemed to be slowing down, his hands curled into fists.

It was _their_ song.

The bodyguard couldn’t help but feel the same way. “…Soonyoung?”

“Yes?” the man whispered back. He didn’t move.

“…would you dance with me?”

“… _dance_ with you?” He looked up. “Here? In the middle of the shop?”

Wonwoo nodded once, unable to account for the desire.

“What about the cane?”

“Not that bad, if we take it slow.”

It took them both a moment before Soonyoung came out from behind the countertop and Wonwoo stood, put his arms around the alpha and then slow-danced tiny circles in the middle of the abandoned café.

“Hey, noooo.” Wonwoo’s thumb gently padded tears off Soonyoung’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Soonyoung struggled to swallow a bit. “I lied,” he whispered, hauntingly. When he looked up, his eyes were rimmed with read, and sang desperation from the alpha’s very soul. “I’m not doing fine. I’m miserable. Without… you. Every night I see your face behind my eyelids. Upset. And I think, God, what did I do to him?”

Wonwoo bit his lip harshly at that, taking a deep breath. “…’s okay, I lied too. I’m not doing very good, either.”

“You’re… not?”

“No. I’ve…” The omega took a deep breath, looking up. “I thought I’d give myself a month to get over you. I needed time… and then I could move on. Get closer to my dream. But no matter who I met, I could only find you. Your face, your voice was what I was looking for. I wanted to come here, so many times but… I just couldn’t. I thought I just needed more time. But it was all crumbling away under me. And… I’m at the point where I don’t care. Screw the dream. Screw the house with a mortgage and the kids and the happy life with a vegetable garden in the back yard. I’ll wait my whole life for that, if I have to. I know it’s not fair. I was the one who couldn’t keep going. _I_ was the one who backed out on you. And I’ll beg on my knees if I must. Would you… would you maybe, consider… taking me back?”

Soonyoung could only stare, unbelieving. “…what?”

“I really will beg, if you’d like me to.” Wonwoo looked back at the man he’d once called his own. “I’ll do anything for you. You’re the only one that makes me feel whole. Like I can smile right when I know you’re mine. And I’ll agree to anything. As open a relationship as you want. It doesn’t even have to be a relationship, if that makes you more comfortable. I just want you back in my life again. That’s all.”

Silence fell.

“…if I don’t have a chance can-”

Soonyoung pressed a palm over Wonwoo’s mouth. “Just a moment,” he whispered, still dancing in slow, tight circles. “Processing.”

Wonwoo nodded, and his mouth was released: he waited a long time for Soonyoung to respond.

“…you would do that? You would… take me back?”

“Isn’t it _you_ taking _me_ back?”

Soonyoung closed his eyes a moment. “I’ve been going to group therapy classes for, uh… commitment issues. Ever since you left me. You had a point. I… I changed my whole lifestyle. I thought maybe if I could get close to your dream, _maybe_ you wouldn’t hate me so much. Maybe we could be… friends. If that. If I could be the man with a house with a mortgage and a dog and kids, then maybe… just maybe…”

Wonwoo stared slack-jawed.

“…I don’t think I’m there _yet_ ,” the barista whispered. “The house with a mortgage and kids, that is. But… I’ve worked hard to be the man you desire. And-”

“You’re already the man I desire,” Wonwoo whispered, leaning his forehead against the alpha’s shoulder. “You’re already the man I want.”

“…really? You’d take me back? I didn’t treat you right. Not the first time, or the other.”

Wonwoo looked up, hopeful. “Third time’s a charm?”

Horror struck Soonyoung. “What if I fail the third time again?”

Wonwoo smiled a little, pulling in closer to dance. “Then we keep trying. Again, and again, until we get the formula just right.”

“…really?”

“Yes. We’re both adults, aren’t we? When we have a problem, we’ll sort it out. Together. I… I don’t want to lose you again, Soonie. I don’t think my heart can take it anymore. So… please promise me, whatever is next, you’ll work it out. You’ll stay with me?”

Soonyoung smiled, snorted, and burst out into a happy laugh, dancing in circles in the café with the man he loved most in the whole world. “Always,” he answered in a hushed whisper. “I’ll always stay with you.”


	27. Get Some Sleep

The café had been transformed into the most magical of all places. Dark curtains hung in front of the windows to block off any outside interference and light. One table had been dragged into the middle of the floor: a large round one. The entire café was done up with fairy lights and candles and everything was draped in red velvet sheets. On the table stood what seemed to be an absolutely _giant_ coffee cup, which upon closer inspection, turned out to be a fifteen-tiered chocolate-coffee cake, masterfully sculptured to look like the real thing with candles on top. Around it stood his friends.

The ones he had left, anyway.

Soonyoung was there, holding hands tightly with Wonwoo; Seungkwan, Lizzy and Ren all stood around, together with Seungcheol and Mingyu, all them clapping and cheering happily.

“…it’s not my birthday,” was all he could manage.

“It’s your going-away party,” Lizzy clarified, beckoning him over. “And you had a day off last year for your birthday so we’re celebrating it late.”

“My real birthday’s in two months,” he protested.

“Don’t be silly and blow out your candles,” Soonyoung grinned, clapping his best barista on the shoulder.

“And don’t forget your wish,” Lizzy added.

Jihoon didn’t have to think twice about what he wished for. He blew out the candles to a thunderous applause and smiled awkwardly. “Guys, this was too much!”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Here, cut your cake!”

He took the large knife but paused a moment. “…instead… uh, come here, Seungkwan.”

The chubby-cheeked delivery boy moved around and allowed Jihoon to put an arm around his shoulders. “What’s up, doc?” he grinned.

“When we first met, kid, you told me you wanted to learn from the best barista. Right? Well… admittedly, I haven’t given you too many lessons since then, but between Soonyoung and I you’re turning out to be a real golden barista. Yeah? And I’m proud of you.” Jihoon squeezed the young boy’s shoulder. “No matter _how_ much you play hooky to make out with Vernon in the back room.”

“Do not!” he protested in indignant shock.

Jihoon chuckled. “Listen. It’s because of you and people like you that I’m not scared to leave Triple C. So there’s only one more thing I can teach you before you officially take my place as the Triple C’s golden boy. You listening?”

Seungkwan sobered a little and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Jihoon smiled softly. “Remember that coffee is an art, and that all art comes from emotion. The very best art comes from love. So every time you step into this café, you have to love what you do. And I promise you’ll be the best barista that ever lived.”

Seungkwan nodded once at the profound statement.

Jihoon gave the boy the handle of the knife. “You promise me you’re gonna love being a barista?”

“Forever,” Seungkwan answered.

“Cut the cake,” he grinned, moving to put his arm around Seungcheol’s waist.

They had a small party together, with dancing – Lizzy’s personal mixtape – champagne, cake and even a couple of helium balloons that went from floating decorations to prime-time vocal comedy _really_ quickly. Especially Wonwoo’s extra-deep voice was simply too comical when combined with gas.

Wonwoo leaned over to his boss. “…I think it’s time. It’s your last day. Things aren’t going too well. They deserve to know who they’ve been working with.”

“Who’ve we been working with?” Lizzy had had a glass too many.

“I brought your stuff. For the full visual effect.” Wonwoo held up a plastic bag.

Jihoon took a deep breath. “Alright.”

When Jihoon came out of the bathroom, he was in full ceremonial uniform; eyeliner on his face, fringe gelled up off his forehead.

Half the party went quiet with shock. The other half just smiled at each other knowingly.

‘’Oh my God,” somebody murmured.

“So, uh, I’m sorta, kinda like uhm royalty?” Jihoon coughed once awkwardly. “So uh, with all the stuff that’s been going on, that’s why I have to give up my job with you guys.”

More silence passed.

Lizzy sat down suddenly, a glass half-full of wine in her hand. “I smacked a royal prince’s tushy with a wet tea towel,” she warbled in faint distress.

“That’s alright Lizzy,” Soonyoung grinned. “Seungcheol here does far worse things to a royal prince’s tushy.”

“Shut up!”

Jihoon had to laugh at that. Within minutes he was sent away to get back into his civilian clothing again, and came back looking brighter and ready to party on.

It was the last happy evening Jihoon would have for a very, very long time.

 

“Sir.” Wonwoo took a deep breath, having run part of the way. “Sir, it’s your brother.”

Jihoon simply dropped his pen and gripped his head tightly. He knew what was coming. It was inevitable. Simply inevitable.

“He’s been stabbed in the chest.”

Jihoon’s hands shook where his nails were carving little half-moons in his skull.

“The assailant has been apprehended, and Jun is being taken care of.”

Jihoon stood up so quickly his chair fell over. “Jun’s still alive?!”

“Yes, sir. Well. Kind of.”

And then Jihoon was running through the hallways: he didn’t care if Mingyu could keep up with him. He had long legs. He _should_. The small prince just ran for it, dodging through the corridors and around bends until he found his brother on a stretcher.

“Jun! Jun!”

They were loading him into an ambulance.

“Jun!”

“He’ll be alright.” Arms crossed around Jihoon to stop him from moving. “They’re taking him to the hospital to see if the dagger hit anything interesting. It’s alright. He’ll be alright.”

Jihoon didn’t realize he was somewhere between screaming and sobbing until Mingyu picked him up right off the floor and carried him back to his own room.

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Whirrrrrr beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Whiiirrrrr beep._

It felt as if with every little _beep_ on the monitor, more of Jun’s like was slipping by.

Jun was, by no means, a favorite brother. But, disregarding a very upset little ten-year-old in Japan who sent anger and bomb emojis to Jihoon daily, a boy who was left playing with dolls in his room all day and a beautiful young man who was more of a vegetable than a prince, he was the _only_ brother left for the Dark Prince to cling on to. So cling he did.

Jihoon didn’t move when Seungcheol came into the room; he didn’t move when Seungcheol set down a bouquet of flowers; he didn’t react to the hand on his shoulder or the kiss on his head. He just sat there, holding his brother’s hand.

Out of them all, Jun was one of life’s greatest constants. He was wild, savage, a fighter. It was most people’s opinion he had murdered his brothers for the throne, but Jihoon couldn’t believe that. No matter how bloodthirsty, how villainous, how downright _cruel_ Jun could be, he hadn’t taken it out on his family since he was eight years old.

The idea that Jun could die seemed almost ludicrous. And yet, his life was draining away one beep at a time.

“…you going to tell me, or do I have to ask Wonwoo?”

Jihoon didn’t move but his lips. “Jun had the borders militarized and pulled out some of the generals and other military staff who are just inside pensioner’s range back into the fray. He’s done his best to antagonize China as much as possible and there’s already fighting at the front. He was going to call upon the civilian troops next. As far as I know there’s bombings, grenades, tanks, shooting, men are being slaughtered like pigs on both sides of the fence and all I can do is sit here and think about the hole in my brother’s heart.”

“…that bad, huh?”

The Dark Prince gave a tiny bit of a nod.

“A real hole?”

“A tear. Went straight through some arteries and into the heart itself. The chambers are being held together now by little plastic walls, and they’re discussing what they can do for him now.” The Prince’s eyes were glassy, as if he couldn’t see anything at all. “…the best option would be a new heart, but I don’t think God’s doling them out right now.”

Seungcheol took a deep breath. “So he’s dying.”

“Yes.” The whisper drained all the blood from Jihoon’s unchanging face. “Yes, he’s dying.”

The two were interrupted by a doctor: he didn’t have time to explain what they were doing, simply that they may have found a way to repair the King’s heart. Kind of. Sort of. Maybe.

 

“…so he’s getting better.”

“Yes.” It was like a sigh of relief. “Slowly. Tiny bits. Almost unnoticeably. But he’s getting better.” Jihoon took a deep breath. “It’s been hours. I need to text my family.”

“Yeah. Listen, Jihoon… I’m going to go home now, alright?”

“Alright.”

Seungcheol pursed his lips. It had to be really rough on his barista; the boy didn’t have eyes for anything else. Understandably, of course. All he could think of was the night Jihoon had spent an hour screaming in mourning for his brothers, and all Seungcheol could do was hold him. But now, Seungcheol couldn’t hold him anymore.

“Seungcheol. Before you go.”

“Yes?” The florist turned to the Prince. “…something I can do?”

“…yeah. Could you kiss me?” Jihoon’s tight, careful expression fell for a moment, alone in the small waiting room: he was just a tired boy, longing for it all to be over. “…I need a little human contact. Please?”

Seungcheol wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. “I love you, you know. I don’t know if…” He took a deep breath. “I just love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Here.” Seungcheol leaned down to kiss the man he loved, pad of his thumb stroking the barista’s cheek a moment. “I love you, Jihoon.”

“I love you too. Seungcheol?”

“Yes?”

Jihoon gulped once. “…don’t get drafted, alright?”

The florist sighed and stretched. “That bad, huh?”

“Getting worse. People are dying. I’m supposed to be in charge of it all until Jun comes to again. I don’t… _know_. My mother never let me have a normal education, that of a Prince. I don’t know anything about war. I don’t know what to tell them.”

“Hey. Hey!” Seungcheol hugged him close. “Shhhhh… shhhh.”

They simply stood there for a while, neither of them knowing what to say.

“You should go home, get some rest,” Woozi eventually murmured against his shirt. “Tomorrow’s another day of trimming hedges and planting tulips.”

“It’s November, Jihoon.”

“Whatever.” The Prince was able to offer him a tiny smile. “Get enough rest for two, alright? I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.”

Seungcheol leaned in again for a last goodnight kiss, pressed against his lover’s forehead. “…take care, my prince.”

“You too. My florist.”

Seungcheol snorted once.

 

“You’ve seen him,” Jihoon sensed.

Uncle Heechul’s sour expression worsened in pain. “Jihoon, how long have you gone without sleep? Get some rest.”

“You’ve seen him after the operation!”

“Yes, I was in there briefly. He’s still breathing.”

Jihoon wiped his face with both hands a moment. “But that’s all.”

“Pretty much.” The elderly man sat down with a soft _humph_ noise and leaned on a dark wooden cane. “I… I keep seeing them in my mind, Jihoon. You know? Aron. Joshua. The looks on their faces. The horror. The pain. I… I don’t want Jun to die, Jihoon.” And then the little old man, hunched over, began to cry little tears.

“No, no Uncle Hee, don’t cry.” Jihoon rushed to his side, taking his hand. “Shhhh, it’s alright. The doctors did say he was going to get better. So don’t you worry, alright? Jun isn’t going to die.”

Uncle Heechul got himself together pretty quickly then. “Yes, yes you’re right. I’m so sorry, Jihoon. I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around. I’m just… I’m getting too _old_ for it all. I can feel my skin shrinking by the hour and at night my bones feel like they’re crumbling to ashes. I’m too old for this kind of life, Jihoon.”

“…there’s still life in you yet,” Jihoon whispered softly. “…since when do you have a cane? Did you get hurt, uncle?”

“No! No. Just the old wound’s been acting up with the weather, you know?”

“The wound you got when you were in Siberia?”

“Yup, the very one. In the old thigh, you know? I was stuck in that prison for seven months. Well, almost seven. Six and three weeks and two days. I shared my cell with somebody from Lebanon. Couldn’t understand a word of each other, but we had some good games. He managed to muscle a deck somehow. Oh, he could swindle anything he wanted into the jail. He had them all bribed around his little finger. He made beautiful drawings with chalk of leaves and flowers. I never did know what became of him.”

Jihoon smiled gently. Uncle Hee only ever told the Siberian Cellmate Story when he was getting tired. “How about we get you to a bed? I know there’s another one in Jun’s room.”

“Thanks, son.” Uncle Hee managed a smile. “My little helper.” He slung an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders for support and together, the two of them waddled to Jun’s room. “They tell me they caught the guy who did this. Is that true?”

“It’s what they tell me too. I can’t go see myself yet. Not until…”

“Yes. Yes, I agree.”

With Uncle Hee in a spare bed, Jun’s monitors beeping softly, and himself in a reasonably comfortable chair with a blanket, Jihoon allowed his eyes to shut for a while. There were guards outside. Nobody could get in and hurt his brother.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Whirrrrr beep._

Nobody.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Whiiiirrrrrrrrrr beep. Beep._

Jun was going to live. Jun was going to be alright.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Now Jihoon could get some sleep.

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep._


	28. The Corporal

“It’s been difficult to get him to talk, your highness. Unless you want us to use some… slightly more _barbaric_ tactics. I’m sure… well, that’s just the problem. He won’t even talk to his own lawyer. He just sits in the questioning room and stares at nothing. So we haven’t been able to get anything out of him except the moments he needs to relieve himself.”

Jihoon closed the brown file and put it back down on the desk. “…let me in to see him.”

“Your highness, that would be totally inappropriate.”

 _His highness_ looked up from under his brow with a terrifying glower that even made Wonwoo break out into a cold sweat, never mind the head detective. “Do you want him to talk?”

“…yes, sir?”

“Put me in that room.”

Jihoon was led through corridors, but was barred from entering the questioning room until Wonwoo had ascertained that the assailant had been properly tied to his chair: both wrists and ankles.

Jihoon paid the mirror in the room no mind, nor the microphone or the cameras.

He _was_ , however, the center of attention. The skittish little man chained to his chair looked at the Dark Prince as if he were the grim reaper, there to take away his soul for all of eternity.

Jihoon stared back.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. Jihoon _glared_ back. Wonwoo stood behind the glass, hairs raising on his arms and chills thrilling down his spine uncomfortably. Jihoon was a difficult man to anger in every-day life, but when he got mad, he sure did go for it. Jihoon was scary enough to make his bodyguard of ten years shudder at the idea of being in the same room as him.

Jihoon glared some more, making the skittish man even more skittish.

With every step Jihoon took towards the man, he fumbled some more: he began to mumble bits here and there.

Jihoon stood on the other side of the table, and leaned in. “You killed my family,” he whispered darkly.

“Alright! Alright I’ll tell you everything!” The man sat there, frozen stiff under the Dark Prince’s glower as he explained the _whole_ thing. Where he had gotten the poison from. How he sneaked in and out of the palace. How he had administered it. How he had planted bombs. And how he had stabbed Jun in the chest, and then poisoned him with castor root when the stabbing hadn’t proved fatal.

When Jihoon came out, the scowl didn’t diminish at all. “I just didn’t get motive,” he muttered to the chief.

“Well… to be honest, your highness, we brought in a psychiatrist. He thinks the assailant is… well, _mad_ , sir. Not in control of his own faculties. He peed twice in there.”

“His highness is a little frightening-”

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon growled out from behind a clenched jaw, interrupting his bodyguard. “Are you trying to tell me that my entire family was _murdered_ because somebody’s brain went ape shit on him?”

“Now, your highness-”

“Wonwoo!” Jihoon turned away. “We’re leaving. Get the car.”

 

 _This is a terrible time to be thinking about one’s secret florist lover_.

“I swear all this, by the right that is mine, until I die.”

Something heavy went onto his head, and Jihoon could only think of the last time he was crowned. _Complete with your coffee-filter crown. It’s kind of cute on you._ The crown Seungcheol had given him was lighter. Held less responsibilities.

This crown was made of gold, and it proclaimed him King for now until he died.

And if Jihoon was any sort of _lucky_ kind of guy, then he wouldn’t be king for long. After all, Kings were kind of getting their asses popped off to heaven or hell around here lately. But no. Jihoon wasn’t any sort of lucky guy. They’d caught the murderer. Jihoon wasn’t going to die, or be let off the hook. He was stuck in the one place he’d hoped to never see again, unable to get out, being crowned King for the whole nation to see.

And all he could think of was an absolutely abysmal florist somewhere downtown Hongdae, about a minute away from a café, who was going to see on the TV in his shop how the man he loved more than his own soul was selling away his freedom for his country.

For Jihoon, however, it was just another terrible day. He stood out on the balcony and waved at his people, who were astoundingly less happy with his coronation than anybody else’s. After all, he was a _Dark_ Prince – or Dark King, now – and he was an omega. After the official greeting of the public and the press there was the greeting of the council and the parliament, and then Jihoon got to sign documents.

Lots and _lots_ of documents.

“And this,” his new secretary Eyoung told him as she put the paper down, “is the release form to order the civilian reserves to be called in, trained and taken to the front.”

The King’s hand wavered, hovering over the dotted line before he put his pen down. “Get me the list of the civilian reserves. Pronto.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

Wonwoo pursed his lips, but even from behind, the gesture wasn’t lost on the King. “Spit it out, Wonwoo. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, your majesty.”

“Aw, turkey’s balls.” He turned in his swivel chair. “You’re the only friend I still have that I get to see on a regular basis. The least you can do is tell me why you’re making that face.”

The bodyguard sighed a moment. “Why do you want the reserves list?”

“So I can augment it, of course.”

“And save some of your buddies from going into battle?”

“Naturally.”

Wonwoo squatted so he could look up at his king. “Jihoon, it doesn’t work that way. You’re friends with half the men in Seoul. If you save them all, there’ll be nobody left to fight. It’s unethical.”

Jihoon thought about it. “Just one?”

“Your ethics, man!”

Jihoon pulled the bodyguard close by his tie. “You listen to me, Jeon Wonwoo, and you listen very carefully,” he growled quietly, “Choi Seungcheol means everything to me. Literally _everything_. If he is dead there is no possible reason for me to remain living under these conditions, and I will do everything in my power and pray to God for extra, in order to _keep_ him alive and safe. Do I make myself clear, man?”

Wonwoo gulped. “Yes, your majesty.”

“He’s only one man. It won’t make a difference. Ah, thank you Eyoung.”

 

 **Seungcheol:** I guess the florist idea fell through, huh?”

 **Jihoon:** I’m sorry. There’s just not much palace left. God, I miss you.

 **Seungcheol:** I miss you too. So damn much.

 **Jihoon:** …do you ever worry?

 **Seungcheol:** I worry about a lot of things, babe. What exactly are we talking about?

 **Jihoon:** That we might never see each other again.

 **Seungcheol:** If some berserk nutso can sneak his way into the palace why can’t I?

 **Jihoon:** Somebody’s going to pump you full of lead. You have no idea what kind of security detail I have on me. I can’t even piss by myself.

 **Seungcheol:** Sorry, I laughed.

 **Jihoon:** Yeah, yeah. Anyway. I worry about it. A lot.

 **Seungcheol:** Don’t. We’ll see each other. I promise. There will be a time. I don’t know when, but I _promise_ I will see you, baby. In the meantime, I’ll send you cute videos every day. Alright?

 **Jihoon:** I love you so much. I really do.

 **Seungcheol:** I love you too, baby.

 **Jihoon:** Seungcheol? …Merry Christmas.

 **Seungcheol:** Merry Christmas, love of my life. Now it’s late. Go to sleep.

 

January brought ice and sleet on the constant, not to mention the snow. The still liveable areas of the palace were being heated with anything they could find. They used candles instead of electric lighting and ordered fifty portable space heaters: Jihoon wore an entire collection of woolly knit jumpers and was still shaking in them.

“I cannot _believe_ you’re making me do this.”

“You’re the king. Nobody can make you do anything.”

“Turkey’s balls,” the King griped. Where he had picked the saying up from, he couldn’t remember, but it certainly helped out in a lot of situations. Jihoon stuck his feet – each with seven pairs of socks on them – into his leather boots. It was a tight squeeze, but he figured that toes weren’t necessary in the grand scheme of things, and if they were he’d rather they go by suffocation than frostbite.

Shrugging into his winter gear the King set out to the nearest training facility, to inspect the troops.

Next week he was to join what would be the full force of his army in attacks.

Peace talks had fallen through. Maybe he could try again in a few months.

Jihoon spent the first four hours in the freezing ice morning inspecting the last of the militant troops: watching them do their routines and a little bit of training and marching. After that he would inspect and give a speech to the civilian troops.

The diminutive omega marched up and down every line. He had insisted that he see every single one of his soldiers, especially the civilians, who were probably drop-dead tired and scared out of their wits. Now and then he would pull one out, ask him his name, rank and serial number. Give him a clap on the shoulder. And a compliment.

Every row he went through. Every _single_ row in the blistering snow and freezing icy wind. His dedication to men who might never go home was overwhelming, even to his guards.

Jihoon suddenly stopped short. He turned on his heel and walked back three soldiers.

“…step forward,” he said lowly.

The man stepped forward.

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Corporal Choi Seungcheol your majesty,” the soldier told him. He stood there to attention, waiting.

“…Corporal Choi Seungcheol.” Jihoon stared at him for the long time. Seungcheol stared at the horizon. “Tell me, corporal. Are you scared?”

“No, sir.”

“You should be.”

“Yes sir.”

“Why aren’t you scared, Corporal?”

“Because it’s an honor to serve my King and country, sir!”

“Corporal?”

“Yes sir!”

“Get back in formation.”

“Yes sir!” Choi Seungcheol stepped back and blended in with the other soldiers seamlessly in a sea of khaki green.

Jihoon finished his march with a little more gumption in his step: fists a little more clenched, expression more taught. He managed to hold his speech with some dignity and much anger which he directed at the enemy, then stepped down, gripping a general by the arm. “How did he get here?”

“Sire?”

“Corporal Choi Seungcheol. He wasn’t drafted. I know he wasn’t. He wasn’t on the _list_. So, as his commanding officer, you had better have an amazing, absolutely _swell_ reason for him to be in this training facility, do you hear me? Start talking, General.”

“He applied to be a part of the troops himself four weeks ago, sire. Said it must have been some administrative oversight. He passed his physical with flying colors. He’s one of our best.” The general looked as pleased as a plum with himself, grinning with his chin high. “I’ve never seen somebody work and train as hard as he did. And the loyalty! The nationality! Everything is for King and country with him, you know? King and country!”

Jihoon’s jaws locked. “I’m sure that makes him quite the hero with the military forces.”

“A hero! Well not yet. But if his training is anything like the real thing he will show exemplary action in the field. He’ll have a ton of metal on his chest before long, if I have any say about it. Eh, sire. Yes, the corporal has a terrific outlook. And he’s great for morale.”

“Morale.”

“Yes, sire. Speaks very highly of you too, sire. You’re the first omega King and you haven’t made a false step. Shown great strength of character, being here to see the troops. Saying you want to see them all one by one. Makes them feel good, sire. Makes them feel like you give a rat’s ass, if you’ll excuse my French, sire. Your being here makes them feel like they’re not just one soldier in a crowd of them.”

“Each and every one of those men has a family, a sister, a mother, a son. They all deserve to get to go home after this and they won’t. The _least_ I can do is see them all.”

“Well sir, that’s just how the corporal feels about it, sire. Our good morale man.” The general’s smirk never faded.

The King thought about it as he stomped towards the compound, where some rooms had been set up for his Majesty. “I want to speak to that soldier alone.”

“…sire?”

“Corporal Choi Seungcheol,” the King growled darkly. “In my quarters. No less than one hour.”


	29. Promise? Promise.

The moment Seungcheol stepped into the room, he was assaulted with a beautiful vase that smashed against the wall, missing him in a wide berth.

“You motherfucking lunatic!” Jihoon screamed. He gripped a heavy hard-backed book off the table and flung it. “You fucking piece of _shit_!”

“Calm down, Jihoonie.”

“Calm _down_?!” The King gripped a desk calendar. “I’ll fucking _show_ you calm, you useless bastard! Argh!”

Seungcheol easily ducked away, advancing until he could hold the King’s wrists down. “Jihoon. Breathe. Calm down. You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm.”

“You let me go!” the screaming King answered, struggling. “You let me go right now you son of a bitch!”

“Jihoon, Jihoon, baby, please calm down.”

“Fuck you!” Tears began to fall as Jihoon’s little fists thrummed Seungcheol’s chest. “Fuck you! Do you know what I had to do to get you off the reserves list? Have you _any idea_ what I went through?!”

“Jihoonie, Jihoonie stop struggling, baby.”

“Fuck you!” the young King spat, sobbing. “Why couldn’t you just stay at home? Why?”

“Shhhhh.” Seungcheol held him close, hugging him tightly. “Shhhhh, it’s alright, it’s alright.”

“It’s not alright,” Jihoon sobbed, sniffing loudly. He stopped trying to hit his boyfriend, opting for clinging to him instead. “It’s not alright because – because you’re going to fight now and – and I – and I! I might not… you might not! I mean… Seungcheol!”

“Shhhhhh.” Seungcheol moved to sit down and pressed the King into his lap. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry I made you so upset. Shhh, I’m sorry, baby. Just try to calm down a little.”

“Little fucker.” Jihoon’s bout of fear, rage and distress subsided a little. Emotional outbursts were few and far between, but being held in Seungcheol’s lap always calmed him down again. He was slaking back his last few sobs, sniffling out his last tears. “Going around behind my back…”

“I’m sorry.” Seungcheol’s lips pressed into his hair. “I’m sorry, Jihoon.”

“What did you do it for?”

“…’s a long story.”

“Get talking. I have time.”

“You once told me a King never has time for anything.”

“I’m the King,” the boy grumped stiffly, “they’ll _make_ time. They’ll add a thirteenth hour to the clock, so help me. Start talking, Cheol.”

The man simply sat there, holding Jihoon to his chest, rocking to and fro a little for a while. “Do you know? Seungkwan and Vernon both volunteered.”

Jihoon frowned, confused.

“They’re both only seventeen, but they volunteered together. Since they can’t be let into the regular civilian troops, they’ve been given other assignments. They’re being deployed with a MASH unit, together. As corpsmen. They’ve been given training already. Vernon knows how to sew up a body. He won’t be asked to, but he knows. The two of them have been away from home for months already.”

Jihoon’s entire body stilled as he thought of the long-haired boy that always seemed to have petals in his shaggy mane, and his chubby-cheeked barista boyfriend. They were both so young. And MASH units didn’t exactly work far away from the front. “…I’ll get them out.”

“No you won’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“They don’t want _out_ , Jihoon. They want to stand and do what they can. They’re a little young, but Vernon looks like he could be eighteen, and he did Seungkwan’s hair up some kind of way, too. This isn’t some play game. This is _war_. People are coming to invade _their_ country too, you know?”

Jihoon’s little fingers curled around Seungcheol’s green shirt. “They’re so _young_ ,” he whispered.

“Yeah. When they draft notice came around to our neighborhood and I wasn’t on it, I was really upset. I went down to the draftee commissions board two days later. Said it had to be some kind of administrative oversight. But they told me my name had been taken off the list at the highest order, and… well, I knew what that meant. I knew you wanted me to stay home, away from the fighting. It galled me, but I had to think it over, so I went back. And when I got there… all I had left of my brother was a note.”

Jihoon swallowed against the harsh lump in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Not your fault,” Seungcheol breezed. “That dumb kid is always going into shit head-first and not thinking about the consequences. Especially when he and his lovey-dovey are together. They’re a couple of idiots. But… I guess it was embarrassing, you know? Having my kid brother go off to fight in a war that I was barred from. And after a few days, other people in the street began to notice that I was still working. So I bribed an officer and got put on the list.”

“Because you were _embarrassed_!?”

“No. Because, Jihoon, this is my country too. And the actions that have angered China are the workings of _one_ single man. And they have no right to come into _my_ country like this. I have a duty to fight for my country, my people, just as you do. To keep my mother and father safe in their beds. And… to keep the man I love safe, too.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Jihoon, when I said I wanted to fight for King and country, I meant it.”

“I had no idea you felt so nationalistic.”

“Well it’s not something I tell on a first date.”

The small King gave him a light punch in the shoulder. “Shut up. I don’t want you to fight for me.”

“You’re being unreasonable and unethical, Jihoon. I’m an able-bodied man just like any other. I should and deserve to fight. Besides, I give the gang great morale. I’ve made friends.”

“And you’re not even scared?”

“ _Scared_?” he repeated in a whisper. “We’re all _scared_ , Jihoon. Frightened. Shaking in our boots, and not just ‘cause of the weather. But everybody is. That’s kind of a side-effect of war. Aren’t you scared?”

“I’m terrified,” the King whispered. “Beyond all recognition. But… just think about this from my perspective for a moment.”

“Jihoon I-”

“Would you just listen?!” Jihoon gripped Seungcheol’s face to give him a serious glare before getting up and pacing a little. “Just… listen. That’s all. You… you know what you are to me.”

“The most impossible relationship of all time?”

“Can you shut up and hear me out?”

“Yes sir.”

Jihoon paced for a while. “You know what you are. What you _mean_ to me. You’re practically all the sanity I have left. And the memories I have with you… the café… are the most precious things in my world, next to the memories of my brothers. My sister. So how do you reckon I’m going to be, leadership-wise, when I’m waiting for Wonwoo to walk up any second now with a note in his hand to tell me you’ve died in battle, huh?”

Seungcheol’s opening mouth snapped shut at that.

“How am I supposed to think of tactical advantages and troops of tanks when I know you’re out there somewhere getting your ass pumped full of lead?”

The man remained silent.

“And you _know_ I’ll have people watching out for you. That’s just extra manpower wasted. But I can’t _do_ anything else because if you die on the battlefield – on _my_ battlefield – then I have nothing left. Can’t you understand that? I don’t have a family anymore. Yoonjo’s locked away in China, Shannon and Dino are in Tokyo, the rest has all been murdered. Oh well, except for Uncle Hee. An elderly man who can barely walk as it is! I don’t have my friends anymore, and I don’t have my café. You are _everything_ I have left in this world and I just want it to last. I just… want it to last. I still want to grow old with you, Seungcheol.” The King’s voice was breaking and he was doing his best not to get emotional again. “I still wanted to grow old with you.”

The corporal took a deep breath, looking away. “…sorry. I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Nothing we can do now,” Jihoon whispered, coming closer. He sat up on the table, swinging his legs. “Nothing to be done. You’re an enlisted man now, soldier. Neither of us can change that.”

“…yeah. I’m sorry. Try not to think about it, alright?”

Jihoon snorted. “Good luck with that. Hey. What MASH are the boys in, do you know?”

“3018th. Why?”

“I’ll watch out for word from them. If I hear anything’s up, I’ll let you know.”

Seungcheol’s face warmed. “…thank you. You know what those kids mean to me.”

Jihoon nodded. “Yeah, me too. Hey Seungcheol?”

“Yes?”

“…don’t get shot.”

The corporal smiled handsomely up at his King. “Yes, sire. I’ll do my best.”

“You’ll do better than your best, corporal!” the King bellowed, standing to his full height. He assumed a heroic pose and gave his lover a militant look. “You’ll do absolutely better than your best! Because if I find you got shot, you’ll have hell to pay.”

Seungcheol’s grin stood wide as he stood to attention, clicking his heels and saluting. “Yes, sir!”

Jihoon smiled for a moment before the seriousness of the situation affected him: he threw his arms around Seungcheol’s waist and hugged him tightly. “…just come home alive,” he whispered. “I don’t want anything else. Just come home to me alive.”

Seungcheol gripped him tighter than ever before. “Okay,” he promised quietly. “I’ll come home alive. You, too. You come home alive, too.”

“Okay. Promise?”

“…promise.”

 

The urgency that was set in his eyes was suddenly mimicked in the King’s: Jihoon’s entire face went pale and taught. He flung his hand out and screamed _“go!”_ but Wonwoo had already turned, knowing he had permission.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d run so fast: his limbs were giving out, lungs burning in protest, but he had to keep going. Keep going. He didn’t bother with a coat or scarf or anything as he ran out into the snow, with the wind burning across his skin.

“Soonyoung!” he screamed, racing ahead. “Soonyoung! Soonyoung!”

The truck roared to life and began to move.

“By order of the King! Stop!”

It began to move further down the road.

“BY THE ORDER OF THE KING I COMMAND THAT YOU STOP!” Wonwoo was running after it, slipping hard on ice. “Stop!”

The truck halted, and after a few moments the driver got out. “What’s the deal?”

“The King wants me to speak to one of the soldiers before he leaves.”

“Oh yeah? And who’s the special little fairy cupcake, huh?”

“Captain Kwon Soonyoung! Get me Soonyoung!” Wonwoo tripped over himself to get to the truck, and there he was, all decked out in his uniform. “Soonyoung!”

The man handed the next person his gun and slowly clambered out of the truck. Wonwoo pulled him to one side so nobody could hear him. “You’re going to the front?”

“…per direct, yes, straight to the front,” Soonyoung whispered.

“But that’s where all the fighting is!”

Soonyoung gave a wry smile. “Yes, baby. That’s the definition of the front.”

Wonwoo’s eyes were full of emotions never released, words never spoken, tears never cried. He was shaking with the attempt to keep it all inside. “Soonyoung. Soonyoung I can’t let you go.”

The alpha gripped his boyfriend tightly. “Shhhh. It’s alright. It’s going to be alright, baby.”

“If you go there, you might never come back!”

“Shhhhhh. Hey, listen. You remember when he first met? And I tried to seduce you with latte art?”

Wonwoo barked out a single laugh, sniffling. “Yeah?”

“And eventually I just handed you a cappuccino with a dick made in foam and a question mark?”

Wonwoo pulled a wry smile, sensitive to the memory. “Yeah.”

“I really fucked up. A few times. In our past. The two of us. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quicker now.

“…but right now, with me, you’re happy, right?”

Wonwoo nodded. “I don’t want you to leave, Soonyoung,” he panted out.

“Here.” Soonyoung took the plain silver chain off from around his neck. “My grandpa gave me this years ago before he died.” He put it around Wonwoo’s neck and fastened it. “You keep this for me. Alright?”

“Alright.” Wonwoo wasn’t mollified.

“You’re not allowed to take it off.”

“Okay.”

“Because when I come back, I’ll take it off. And I’ll replace it with a ring on your finger.”

Wonwoo froze.

“…when I come back, Wonwoo, will you marry me?”

The two stared at each other for a moment before Soonyoung slid down on one knee in the snow. “I said, when I come back, Wonwoo… will you marry me?”

The bodyguard stared at the alpha. Snow was melting through his uniform and they were both shuddering in the cold. And he was being proposed to.

“Yes,” he breathed in shock. “Yes, of course I’ll marry your stupid ass.”

The men in the truck that were headed to the front cheered and Soonyoung stood to kiss his omega deeply and darkly. “I have to go now. Baby, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“…promise?”

“Promise.” They kissed again, and walked back to the truck, where Soonyoung clambered in. “Love you, Wonwoo. Wait for me.”

Wonwoo waved as the truck started up again. “I will. I love you too, Soonyoung. Don’t get shot. Don’t drink military coffee.”

The barista-turned-military grinned as the truck left. “As if I’m stupid enough for that!”

“I love you!” Wonwoo shouted.

“I love you too!”

The truck drove away, and Wonwoo was left in the snow by himself.

It was the last time they would ever see each other again.


	30. At the Front

The troops moved out on Thursday a week later, leaving Seoul with only a few men still in it: the elderly, the very young, the infirm and physically or mentally unfit for duty. Jeonghan and Minhyun were locked up, warm and safe in the palace. That was a relief. Lizzy was almost holding the café by herself, with Ren at her side: due to an asthma problem that left him scarred as a child, the barista was exempt from duty. That was good, too. As long as Lizzy didn’t forget to feed the fish.

Everybody was drafted and on their way out in a convoy of military trucks headed for the front. The weather was still abominably cold, with soldiers huddling together for heat and socks in the compound being sold for up to 24000 won per pair.

Jihoon’s jeep led the convoy.

Wonwoo drove; Shownu was in the passenger’s seat, and Jihoon was squished between Wonwoo and four duffels in the back seat, not to mention weapons, walkie talkies, radios, phones, medical equipment, tent equipment, rations, sleeping bags… the whole lot.

“This is stupid,” he complained through his face bask, icy wind biting at his face. “Why do I need _three_ bodyguards on the _battlefield_?”

“Shut up,” the three bodyguards chorused.

 

Camp was made for the night: the King and his three bodyguards took the largest tent, but were in no better shape than any of the soldiers. Jihoon made no effort to single himself out as the King. He shovelled snow just as hard, pitched his tent with just as much skill – that is to say, none – and chewed grudgingly on the same shitty rations everybody else got. A large bonfire was not permitted, lest the enemy should see them, so the men were huddled around in small groups around tiny campfires, boiling snow in pots to hydrate their powder potatoes.

Jihoon didn’t join any of them. He sat in his tent and gnawed on dried meat. He didn’t have the luxury of spending his nights kidding around with the men and sharing ghost stories with a pint of hydrated beer on the side. He had plans to look at, maps to observe, and generals to discuss with.

Being a novice in the art of war was really difficult.

 

You could tell when they were getting closer to the front. This was mostly because the sound of the wind made way for the sound of shells falling. The thrum of an engine under everybody’s feet began to make way for tremors in the ground every time one of them fell. Tight silence was broken by the odd sharp-shooter’s shrill bullets.

The closer they got, the more the white snow made way for freezing trickles of red blood. And slowly, red blood began to make way for red bodies.

The moment the jeep arrived, the King leapt out and stormed into the General Operations tent, already screaming. “ _WHY ARE THERE DEAD MEN LAID OUT IN THE SNOW LIKE FUCKIN’ FAIRY LIGHTS ON AIRPORT TARMAC?! DO YOU KNOW HOW UPSET MY MEN ALREADY ARE?! WE DIDN’T NEED THE ROAD PAVED WITH BLOOD SOLDIER! YOU GET MEN ON THAT TO COLLECT THE BODIES ASAP DO YOU HEAR ME?!_ ”

Mingyu looked over at Wonwoo, who shrugged non-committedly. “His boyfriend’s in the army, now. He’s gonna take better care of the men than he already was. And he was already doing a bang-up job.”

 

After the immediate clear-up of the area, some hot beverage that was commonly called coffee but tasted more like antifreeze and the checking of the plans, the King was invited to look around the premises. He was shown the mess tent, where there was something akin to food, shown some barracks and then the first aid center, where wounded were given bandages and sent on choppers or vans to the closest MASH unit available.

To call it a first aid center was a bit much. It looked and smelled more like a butcher’s chainsaw practice venue than anything else; a corpsman was constantly mopping blood off the floor while two doctors, a nurse and some other corpsmen ran haywire between patients.

The calmest of them, a short young man, had his back to the King. He was putting provisional stitches in a man’s arm that looked like it was more flesh for burning than arm. The bone was poking right through.

“Ah, this is one of the corpsmen the MASH unit sent up to us. Just temporarily. We had a bad influx of wounded. Needed more men. Corporal Boo!”

“Just a minute.”

“Corporal! Your commanding officer-”

“My commanding officer isn’t sewing a man’s flesh back to his bone, so my CO is gonna have to wait a two-timed turkey-balls mother-loving minute until I’m done saving a man’s life!”

Jihoon waited, in shock, for the corpsman to finish and help load the patient onto the waiting chopper to be taken back to the MASH unit several miles down the road.

“Now!”

The General said something, but whether it was an introduction or a reprimand, neither Jihoon or Seungkwan knew. The young boy ran, and Jihoon easily welcomed him in a thick hug. “Woozi!”

Jihoon smiled bitterly, patting the back of the boy’s head. “It’s been a while since I heard that name! Hey now!” He bent over, gripping Seungkwan’s head. “What the hell do you think you’re doing up here on the front?! You were stationed with the MASH unit, it’s eight miles off the line here! You’re _supposed_ to be staying out of trouble, kid!”

“They needed somebody up here and I’ve gotten real good with the needlework, and I was glad to come and help. I’m going back in the morning, if the wounded let up.” Seungkwan was crying a few tears of happiness, tucking his hard military cap back off his forehead a little. “Aw, I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Where’s Vernon?”

“He’s still at the MASH. They’re training him to nurse properly. Don’t worry, he’s absolutely fine!” Seungkwan hugged the King again, and Jihoon made no attempt at decorum in front of his generals. Besides, he looked good, hugging the youngest. “I can’t believe you’re here! At this time!”

Jihoon gripped him hard and then clapped him on the back. “You’ll never guess who’s here too.” He leaned in to whisper it. “…Choi Seungcheol.”

Seungkwan pulled away. “WHAT?!”

“He enlisted himself. Volunteered.” Jihoon gripped his barista protégé close. “Don’t worry, won’t let him get hurt.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. At a time like this! It’s!”

Jihoon frowned a little. “What do you mean, a time like this? You’ve said that twice now.”

Seungkwan looked up and wiped the sweat off his brow. “I… I! The chopper that just went up. It was…!” Then Seungkwan found Wonwoo’s face. “…Soonyoung’s off to the MASH unit. He was in pretty rough shape. He’s got half a junkyard in his belly.”

Wonwoo struggled forward. “What?!”

“Soonyoung was on that last chopper to the MASH unit. I haven’t seen a soldier that bad. There was barely any pulse on him when he came in here.” Seungkwan gulped.

“Ji-”

“Go. Take a jeep and Seungkwan and go.”

“I can’t-”

“That’s an order.” Jihoon pushed Seungkwan away. “Your place is at the MASH unit, not here. We’ll hold our own. Don’t tell Vernon about Cheol!”

Wonwoo gripped Seungkwan and pulled him toward a jeep.

“Sire, you know that boy?”

“Yes. Very well. He’s like a kid brother to me. Get me a pair of rubber gloves.”

“Your majesty?”

“These men need help. I’m here and I’m good with my hands. Scrub me up.”

The General looked at Mingyu for explanation, but the bodyguard simply shrugged. “He’s hands-on, gotta give him that.”

“You want the army done right, you gotta do every job yourself, at least once,” Jihoon chimed, scrubbing up in some boiled snow quickly.

The General leaned in. “…I haven’t seen that kind of dedication in thirty years. Is he always like this?”

“His Majesty always gives 110%,” Mingyu answered quietly. “It’s his brother’s fault he’s at war and simple men have to die for the cause. He’s… well.”

Jihoon spent a few hours helping to bandage the wounded and get them to the MASH unit, and then went around more barracks until late in the night. When he was finally urged to rest, he simply sat down at the battle plans, staring at icons representing his own and enemy troops, glaring, as if the coarseness of his expression could make the impending forces backpedal.

“Jihoon,” Mingyu said softly, “you have to sleep.”

“I just arrived.”

“You arrived over twelve hours ago. It’s almost morning again.”

“Then there’s no point in going to sleep anymore, is there?”

Mingyu sat down beside the determined King, being careful not to wake anybody else sitting at the table. “Hey… I know I’ve only been your guard for half a year or so, but we’re pals, right? I mean I know all about the café and stuff. So… why do you do it? All the personal stuff. The extra touches.”

Jihoon stretched his back a moment before sighing loudly. “…when I was working at Triple C, I was happy. I had a job I loved, a boyfriend I loved, brothers I loved… it was going swell. I was brutally forced back into palace life, to be a Royal again. I never wanted it. But I did it. For my country.” He motioned with a pencil around the tent. “You see all these guys in green here? It’s the same for them. They don’t want to be here. It’s not their fight to win. It’s got nothing to do with them. But… just like me, they all stood up to the measuring pole and they’re here because they have to. For their country. I guess I feel some sort of solidarity with them. They’re going through the same kind of hell I went through. That earns my utmost respect.”

Mingyu took a deep breath and nodded. “Sorry to tell you this, but… that’s a very Kingly way to feel.”

Jihoon snorted once. “I already hate it here. The smell. The dirt. The lice, the rats, this poison they call coffee.”

Mingyu made a face. “Well, it’s war.”

The King turned to him. “You’ve fought before?”

“Not unless my older sister counts.” Mingyu grinned. “My dad was a war hero. Specialized in amazing story teller. Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“Everybody gets to bring one item from home, right? Something to remind them?”

“Sure.”

Mingyu moved to a corner where he’d slung his bag and pulled out a small glass bottle. “Plum brandy. Excellent year. Only for special occasions.”

“Like the war being over?”

“Yeah. Here.” He popped the lid and poured a little in the King’s empty cup, and then his own. “First night at the front. Here’s to… to King, to country, to coffee.”

Jihoon raised his mug and knocked it to Mingyu’s. “That’s almost a Triple C.”

“Almost.”

 

Seungkwan had either just stopped talking, for fallen asleep in the back seat, but Wonwoo couldn’t spare him a thought right now. He was pretty sure he was going to get frostbite on the tip of his nose, but he couldn’t really think about that right now either. All he could think about was _Soonyoung_.

His precious boy. All he could see, driving in the darkness, was his face. His eyes. The way he spoke. The way he sang in the shower. The way his cheeks bunched up when he was really happy. The way he pulled gags constantly, just to make people laugh. The way he’d turned everything around for himself. For _Wonwoo_ himself. The way Wonwoo had hurt him. The way Wonwoo loved him. The way Wonwoo just wanted him to stay alive.

The messed-up way their relationship had started out. Quick fucks in a back room, trying to keep it secret. It hadn’t been so secret at all, apparently. Every time Soonyoung touched his body. Every glint in his eyes when Wonwoo told him he loved him. Every spark between them, every whispered word. The day they danced in Triple C. The way Soonyoung cuddled up and muttered his name when he was asleep.

The MASH unit seemed to be an entire world away.

Surprisingly, Seungkwan hopped out the moment they stopped, before the engine was even cut: Wonwoo simply followed his lead as the boy ran to scrub up in pre-op.

“Who’s this?” somebody asked.

“Wonwoo, Jeon Wonwoo. By leave of the King,” Seungkwan answered hurriedly, hitting the taps with his elbow. “Wonwoo, my CO. Wonwoo’s here for Lieutenant Kwon Soonyoung.”

“Eh?”

“The one with a lead factory in his belly.”

“That really bad kid? I got Minjun to patch him up.”

“Best surgeon we’ve got,” Seungkwan told Wonwoo, pulling into scrubs. “Really. If anybody can pull him through, Minjun can.”

“He’s still in there,” the CO muttered. “No, son, you can’t go in. Put on a face mask and move over to post-op, it’s two doors down. You’ll get him when he gets out.”

“Sir I-”

“That’s an order. You’ll contaminate the operating room. Go to post-op.” The CO sighed and turned to Seungkwan as Wonwoo raced away. “I thought you were to stay until dawn?”

The boy shrugged, allowing another corpsman to affix his face mask. “The King demanded that us young ones get sent back off the front a couple of miles.”

“Nice of him.”

“Yeah.”

“Glad you’re back, kid. We need somebody who can sew like you.”

 

Wonwoo checked the dog tags of every man that came into post-op. It was four more hours before Soonyoung’s dog tags showed up. And it was just as well, because he would have been unrecognizable.

His lower half wasn’t so bad: his left leg was left untouched by both surgeon and enemy fire, and his hips were just good. He had a slice up his right leg, but the clipboard attached to his cot read that it was a superficial laceration. He didn’t read the parts out the metal they took out of him. The rest of Soonyoung was bandaged up: his face, his chest, his stomach, all of it. There were little holes to breathe through. Well, at least he was breathing by himself.

Wonwoo took up one of Soonyoung’s arms, one that wasn’t bandaged, and held it up against his chest so his heart could beat against Soonyoung’s fingers. The silver chain around his neck got caught up in the hassle of fingers.

“You promised,” Wonwoo whispered, voice edging on terror. “You promised, Soonyoung. You proposed to _me_ , you know. You can’t back out now. You can’t.”

“Excuse me, sir. Please put the patient’s arm down? Just for bloodflow.”

“Yes. Of course.” Wonwoo put the arm down obediently, and leaned on the side of Soonyoung’s cot as the nurse went along to the next patient. “You promised.”


	31. Hello, Jeonghan

“God, forgive me your Majesty.”

Jihoon didn’t change his expression, merely waving at the general with a limp hand as he went over reports. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. You weren’t the only one to fall asleep.”

The General stretched slowly, blinking. “Sire, have you been up all night?”

“That depends. Is it morning?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes.”

The General cleared his throat. “Sire…”

“Feel free to go get some breakfast, General, the other officers are in the mess tent.”

“Have you eaten, sire?”

“That depends. Would you call what they’re serving food?”

The General grinned a little. “Alright. Then, with your permission si-”

Jihoon waved him off.

Mingyu sighed at the King, sitting down next to him. “Well, that’s that.”

“…any word from Wonwoo?”

“We don’t really have much of a signal here at the front.”

“…get on the radio. Contact the 3018th MASH unit. Ask for Wonwoo and Vernon, if he’s there. When you get them, fetch Seungcheol.” He stood up. “I want to speak with them.”

It took a while, but finally, Vernon was on the phone.

“Vernon? It’s Woozi.”

“Hey!” The boy was surprised, but the connection was clear enough to hear him well. “What’s up?”

“How’re things at MASH?”

“Sewing up wounds, staving off death. The usual.”

“I could have you two court-marshalled for enlisting underage you know.”

“Aw, shucks, we’re just trying to help.”

“I know you are. That’s why I’m not going to fuss.” Jihoon breathed deep. “Wonwoo there?”

“Yeah, in a minute. He’s washing his face. Oh, no, wait, here he is.”

The phone audibly changed hands: Wonwoo’s voice was bright, all things considered. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to have made you wait.” Silence passed. “He’s alright,” Wonwoo breathed. “The doctor says he’s going to pull through. He’ll be sent back to Seoul to be properly hospitalized soon.”

Jihoon let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Alright, get your ass back here.”

“Can’t I wait until he’s conscious?”

“Sorry, Wonwoo. I need you here.” Jihoon looked up and waved his corporal into the small radio room. “I want you here on the double. Vernon still there?”

“Yeah. Here.”

“Vernon?”

“Woozi?”

“I have somebody here who would like to speak to you.”

 

Seungcheol came out with a red, blotchy but dry face. He’d done his best to make it look like he hadn’t cried on the phone to his kid brother. He didn’t do a very good job.

Jihoon just stared at him, and Seungcheol took a deep breath. “Thank you. For letting me have that.”

“You’re not going to die. Neither is he.”

They both just looked at each other, painfully aware that others were watching. They couldn’t kiss, or hug.

Jihoon stepped forward and gave his boyfriend a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Love you, you know.”

Seungcheol snorted a laugh. “Yeah. You, too.”

“Hey. Don’t worry, alright? Vernon and Seungkwan are both going to be alright. Promise.”

Seungcheol nodded a little. “Yeah. I just… it’s hard. Not knowing.”

“Yeah.”

 

In three days, over 100.000 troops had been put up to the front. Thousands had come back wounded, or not come back at all. Jihoon had not yet led an attack – he was waiting for a soft spot – and the cold and blood and shoddy coffee were getting to pretty much everybody.

Jihoon’s expression was constant, austere, and mean. He held a contempt in his eyes; a hatred for war, battle, and the forces that had moved him and the men to have to be at war.

A TV crew came to film him to make a documentary about him in his war. Apparently in Seoul they were dubbing it ‘the Dark War’ because it belonged to the Dark Prince. Never mind that it was actually Jun’s war and there was nothing the barista would have liked better than to not have any war whatsoever.

Wonwoo was beside himself, trying to set up security. Having civilians in a military zone at the front in front of the King whose entire family had been murdered was not his favorite event to organize. He conducted their personal searches himself, and allowed them into the King’s tent with much chagrin.

It took them a while to set up the camera and microphones and lighting – which Woozi thought was a ridiculous addition to a war zone – and then the interviewing could begin.

“Your majesty,” the interviewer smiled brightly. “How goes the war?”

Jihoon paused a moment. Could this woman really be _this_ stupid?

“War, madam,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “never goes well.”

“Madam,” a PR representative muttered, “you will be reminded you are not here to gather tactical intelligence, but to document the emotional state of affairs at the front.”

She coughed. “Yes, yes of course. Your Majesty, in Seoul there is much talk of you welcoming this war. That you have wanted this war for years. Is there any truth in that?”

“No, there is not.” The King did not offer any extra information.

“Then, you do not look to invade our neighbors?”

“I do not.”

“Your Majesty, you recently sent your younger siblings away to Tokyo on a diplomatic visit. Was that in order to gain Japan’s involvement as a backing for your war?”

Jihoon’s expression changed minutely: his lips retracted to show a little more teeth, and his head moved to glare a little harder. “In _case_ you hadn’t noticed, my family was being _slaughtered_ one by one. I did what I had to to keep my brother and sister _safe_ from any harm that might come to them. I am not my _brothers_. I do not sell my family like cattle or grain off to the highest bidder for a price that I find deserving.”

“By that, does Your Majesty mean your engagement to the late Princess Hayi?”

“No, madam.” The fire in the King’s voice roared. “I mean the now seemingly futile bonds between my family and that of China’s royal family. My brothers Aron and Joshua and my sisters Nana and Yoonjo were all married into that family in order to unite our nations politically. Yet now three of _my_ siblings are dead, and I have been cut off from my sister Yoonjo. I have no way to know whether she is being held captive, whether she is even still alive or not. I _adored_ Hayi, but I do not use my siblings as leverage to get what I want.”

The reporters in the tent all went a little pale and silent at the outburst.

Wonwoo leaned in a little. “Your blood pressure, kid.”

Jihoon took a deep breath. “Yes, yes.”

“Perhaps we should turn to slightly different questions.” The interviewer passed over a few sheets of paper. “…what’s it like, here at the front, with the men?”

 

There was a small, a _very_ small part of Jeonghan’s brain that was registering that he was in a limousine. A royal one. Minhyun was with him. Dear, sweet Minhyun.

But the greater part of his brain was tucked away in a cage. A cage surrounded entirely by darkness. By loneliness.

Because Joshua was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

Jeonghan had never imagined a world without his twin brother. He’d never even thought to imagine it. The idea had never occurred to him. And it was stupid, for a man in his early thirties, to be so attached to his twin brother, but there was never any choice for Jeonghan. Joshua had been in the world before Jeonghan, even: there hadn’t been a moment of Jeonghan’s life that was passed without the existence of his brother. Joshua was the one assurance in this life, the rock to build everything on.

Even when Minki left, Joshua was there.

That was, of course, what Shannon had found in the golden box in Jeonghan’s room: the secret that Jeonghan hadn’t told anybody about. Not even Joshua. Not so much in that it was a secret from Joshua, he just never bothered to tell him.

Minki had been the son of the stable master in the palace: he was three years younger than Jeonghan and Joshua, but they had, at some point, become friends.

They had grown up together. Joshua wasn’t as interested as Jeonghan was, but they were all amicable. The older they became, the more Jeonghan grew close to the stable master’s son. Minki was beautiful – so beautiful, in fact, that sometimes it hurt to look at him. And Minki adored Jeonghan just as much.

To say they were best friends during their childhood was an understatement. To say that they were lovers in their teens was the best-kept secret of the palace.

Two alphas falling in love was unusual: possible, but unusual. Jeonghan and Minki had been one of those couples.

At first, Minki had always been slightly timid. He was, after all, the son of a servant; and this was, after all, one of the great Princes of the royal family. Minki always kept the lines from blurring, at least early-on. He was respectable. Until one night when Jeonghan had crept out of bed to watch the stars, the young Prince leaned over and kissed Minki’s cheek.

_“What was that for?”_

_“For you.”_

_“…why?”_

_“…because… I wanted to give it to you. Because I think I might love you. Because you’re beautiful. Inside and out.”_

Joshua never approved of their early dating when they were kids. Well, at least not at first. And it tore at Jeonghan. Nibbled at him that his twin did not approve of his relationship with Minki. But somewhere in their middle teenage years, it began to change. Joshua began to see how happy Jeonghan really was, and how delighted Minki was, too.

Their relationship was made stronger when they were sixteen. They had been dating for three years, by then. Both of them virgins. One night together changed that status.

They were inseparable. They spent all their free time together, in secret, whenever they could. Sometimes they would just hide for hours eating candy and cuddling, at others they would sneak out of the palace or make love constantly. Minki and Jeonghan were meant to be.

Over their years together, Jeonghan owned three of Minki’s items. His singlet ring was a thick golden piece with a navy-colored stone in it: Minki had given it to him on their first anniversary. Then, there was Minki’s handkerchief. His mom liked old-fashioned handkerchiefs, and Minki had down his best to sew in Jeonghan’s initials next to his own. It was small, humble, personal, and the happiest gift the Prince had ever received.

The third item was a tiny steel locket. It was plain, and a little rusty by now. The only way to open Minki’s locket was with a tiny steel key that he held around his neck on a silver chain at all times. He’d given it to Jeonghan for his 21st birthday. He said if they still loved each other that time next year, he would open it so Jeonghan could see what was inside.

The day after Jeonghan’s 21st birthday, Minki disappeared.

It took a few days before the Prince had heard the stable master’s mother was sick, and the family had moved to Jeju island. Minki had left without a word.

Three days after that, Jeonghan found a letter addressed to himself under his pillow. His name was written in big swirly letters the way Minki wrote it, like he was important. Jeonghan had never opened the letter. At first, in grief; then, in anger.

These four items were all in the beautiful golden case that Shannon had found in his room. Jeonghan now kept them on his person at all times.

When Minki left, Jeonghan had been devastated. Beyond control. Out of his mind. Literally crazy. To the point of pulling his own hair out and yelling at even the tiniest sounds.

The only reason he made it back to reality was Joshua.

Joshua, Joshua, Joshua.

Joshua was the second half of his soul. He was the man that pulled Jeonghan in tightly and let him cry. Joshua was the man who glued Jeonghan together when Minki left. He practically nursed Jeonghan back to life. And only the deepest of brotherly loves could ever bring Jeonghan back from that abyss.

To think that Joshua and Jeonghan no longer shared the same earth, the same _air_ , was abominable. Everything was dark, and empty without him. First Minki. Now Joshua. How was a man supposed to survive when the only two people he ever _really_ loved – loved with more than his entire heart – were gone for good?

How was he supposed to function without Joshua? His better half?

The limousine stopped: Minhyun and Jeonghan were being transported out of it. Jeonghan was moving, one foot in front of the other, but it was too mindless to be called walking. There was no goal, no function in his step. Their bodyguards were taking the two Princes out for a stroll.

“Jeonghan?” his bodyguard whispered. “This is the café where Jihoon used to work. You remember it, don’t you? You’ve been here before. A long time ago, just once. Would you like some coffee?”

Jeonghan didn’t answer. Didn’t even move. He just stared at nothing, head lolling over the back of his seat. As was always.

“…plain black coffee all around, please.”

It took some time, but there was the clinking of china on the table. “Here we go, seven black coffees.”

_That voice_. Something in Jeonghan stirred: not hope, but maybe a ghost of something that had once been hope.

A hand touched Jeonghan’s ever so briefly – a tiny squeeze – and the Prince sat upright and to attention as if he were on a spring, staring at the retreating barista. “Minki!”

He turned, and nothing had changed. Not the shape of his face, not the warm, welcoming hue of his eyes. Not his delicate brow or sweet little nose, not his painfully perfect lips. Nothing. He was the same as he had been when he was nineteen. Exactly the same. Impossibly the same. Terrifyingly the same.

Minki gave the Prince a look that was every emotion all at once – delight, sympathy, terror, anguish, pain and joy. All together.

“Hello, Jeonghan.”


	32. Fight With You

Ren and Jeonghan sat in a booth towards the back. Jeonghan could hardly believe what he was seeing. Ren simply sat there with a peaceful, almost sad look on his face.

“I don’t believe it.” Jeonghan’s lips barely moved as his fingers rose to touch Ren’s face. “I don’t… believe it. Minki… Minki!”

Ren gently held Jeonghan’s hand to his face, closing his eyes at the feeling of his fingers on Ren’s forehead. “…Jeonghan.”

The Prince clocked the name tag and choked a little. “You changed your name?”

“…after my family… I found it difficult. Being called by my name.”

Jeonghan just stared at the barista playing with his fingers for a long time. “…I missed you. When you left,” he whispered.

Ren didn’t open his eyes. “I missed you too.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” Jeonghan’s voice cracked on the last syllable, and he wanted to continue, but found that his voice was failing him in the thrall of emotion.

“I wanted to, but there was no time. You were out with the family that day, to some event. Do you remember? I said I would wait for you that night. But… we were leaving so soon. Dad was in such a panic to go. I barely managed to write you the letter. I-” Ren stopped in the middle of his sentence and let out a masochistic, sarcastic little chuckle, letting Jeonghan’s hand go and straightening out. “I guess it never mattered.”

Jeonghan stared at his discarded hand on the table, visibly upset. It took Ren a moment before he touched it again.

“I guess it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.”

“Have you any idea-” Jeonghan had to stop, hand over his mouth, looking away. It took him a while to regain his senses, and even then, he couldn’t speak. He just stared at Jeonghan’s hand.

A hand that he had held. A hand that had been curled around his, around his waist, his thighs, fingers that had towed through his hair. The long, pretty fingers. They had felt so good when they held his face, when they played with his hair. Even lying on the table they were pretty. Minki was the most beautiful creature in creation.

“…I’m sorry about your brother,” Ren said softly.

“Which one?” the Prince returned with venom.

“You know which one.”

It was like he had been overtaken for a spirit: for a moment, Jeonghan couldn’t really see. His chest convulsed as if he was being hit in the sternum with a hammer, over and over: like the sacred whisper from Minki’s lips had physically racked through him in pain.

Joshua, gone. Wiped off the face of the earth.

Ren gripped his hands, and somehow, Jeonghan’s head was pulled above water. The overwhelming grief did not pull him down as it had so often in the past. There were fingers there. Fingers he knew. Fingers he loved. Fingers that pulled him out of the sea.

How long would they last? How long would Ren be in his life again? How long would it take before he was gone again? A few minutes? A few hours, when the Prince would no doubt be dragged back to the palace? Would he be able to come back someday? Would he have a few more days? Maybe a week? Or would heaven bless him again – would he have another fifteen years before the angel in his life disappeared and left him alone again?

If that happened, would Joshua come back to save him? It would only be fair. Jeonghan wasn’t very good at surviving without both of them. When one left, the other seemed to be there for him, whether by magic or not.

“Jeonghan… can I still call you that?” Ren’s vague, hurt little smile went all the way to his eyes. “I don’t know if I can still call you that after all these years. A little over a decade now. Should I call you Your Highne-”

Jeonghan bent his entire body forward in order to close his hand over Ren’s mouth. “No,” he whispered at the table, his entire body trembling. “Don’t say it. Don’t besmirch the one memory I have that’s as pure as angel’s songs. Don’t say anything if it’s not my name.”

Ren closed his eyes. He could feel Jeonghan’s hand on his skin. He leaned in to the touch. “Jeonghan,” he whispered.

If Ren had popped a halo and wings there and then, it wouldn’t have surprised Jeonghan. The sound of his voice, the feeling of his breath on Jeonghan’s skin was just like what it used to be. He could see himself in the back of the stable, reading dirty jokes from magazines to each other. He could see the little park they used to hang around at as teenagers around twilight, when the children went home and the world became quiet. He could see Ren’s face in the soft halo light of his room, smiling, laughing, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Jeonghan’s entire frame was shaking like he was in a storm.

“Jeonghan,” Ren whispered. He gently took Jeonghan’s hand off his mouth and kissed the back of it. “Jeonghan.” He kissed the knuckled softly. “Jeonghan,” he whispered, as if the word was the most sensual, sacred thing he’d ever uttered. He pressed the Prince’s fingertips to his lips. “Jeonghan. If you want me to stop, tell me now. Because I don’t plan to.”

Jeonghan’s entire body convulsed at the idea of letting Ren keep kissing his hand. Letting his perfect, beautiful most _perfect_ lips touch his skin. Allowing Minki to kiss him again.

But neither of them spoke.

So Ren continued to kiss the Prince’s fingertips over and over: turned his hand over, and gently kissed his palm all the way down to the inside of his wrist, where he stopped, eventually just holding Jeonghan’s hand between his.

“…why didn’t you?”

Jeonghan turned to face him again.

Ren never looked up, simply holding the Prince’s hand in his. “I think, after all these years… I could forgive you for never calling, never texting. If I just knew why. Were you bored with me? Angry? Didn’t you like me anymore? If I could just know, I would let it go.”

Jeonghan’s eyes blinked, and he found that they were wet. “What?”

Something made a little _thunk_ sound in Ren’s head as it sunk in. “…Jeonghan, you did _read_ the letter I left you, didn’t you?”

Slowly – very slowly, but surely, Jeonghan pulled the small golden case from his breast pocket. When he opened it, a little tune began to warble.

“…the music box I bought you? You still have that?”

Slowly, one by one, Jeonghan pulled the items out of it. The ring. The handkerchief. The letter.

Ren sighed and leaned back. “Of all the stupid things you’ve ever done, Jeonghan, you never opened my letter.”

Jeonghan reached out for the small knife Ren had used to cut the pastry left untouched in the middle of their table. With it, he gently cut the envelope open and read the faded pencil scribbles there.

 

_My darling Jeonghan,_

_My parents are moving to Jeju and I have to go with them to make sure they are safe. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back, but I will come back, I promise. I love you. I miss you already. We never exchanged numbers because we see each other every moment of every day anyway, but here’s my phone number. Please text me? I don’t have time to find your number._

_Jeonghan, I love you. Forever._

_I’ll be back. I love you._

_Your Minki_

 

Jeonghan stared at the words in complete terror. For the first ten minutes, the words simply didn’t sink in. Then he began to understand.

Minki was right. There had never been any reason to exchange phone numbers. They were never more than 20 minutes’ walk apart, anyway.

Minki hadn’t left him. Not willingly. Not without a trace. Minki had left him everything he had needed to hold on to his sanity, and Jeonghan had never even bothered to reach out and grasp it. The pain he’d gone through, the suffering of a burning soul, had all been for nothing. Minki hadn’t _left_ him – not like that. Minki had loved him right until the very end.

Minki had _loved_ him the way Jeonghan had loved him back. Unconditionally. Loyally. Until the _very_ end.

“ _Minki._ ” The name burst out from between his lips as his hands shook so hard the words blurred. “Minki, Minki, Minki, Minki! Minki! Minki!”

“Shhhhhh.” Ren grasped Jeonghan’s hands. “I’m here. I’m here, my… do you remember what I used to call you?”

“Don’t say it.” For the first time, Jeonghan looked Ren straight in the eye. “If you say it, I’ll take you home. I don’t care what you or anybody else says. If you say it, I’m taking you back, and nobody will ever take you away from me again.” The way he said it was with an astounded fear, a _terror_ that he would not be able to let go of his angel again. “If you say it, you’re with me for life, Minki.”

The barista took a deep breath and searched among the items, checking the music box. His face fell. “Do you… not have it anymore?”

A single thumb pulled a small locket out from Jeonghan’s chest. “I never take it off.”

“It’s gotten all rusty.” Ren tutted. He pulled a similar chain off his own neck, a minute key on the end of it. “I hope this still fits.” With a little hesitance, he jiggled the key into the lock, and the locket sprang open. A tiny little scrap of paper flitted onto the table. Jeonghan pulled it right side up.

_My Only Jeonghannie, will you marry me?_

Minki coughed, clearing his throat. “I know I can’t really do that. You’re the royal one, you’re supposed to propose. But you were taking your sweet-ass time about it, and I was getting impatient.” He went quiet a moment. “We’ve been apart for a really long time, Jeonghan. We’ve grown opposite directions. We’ve got so much to heal, so much to learn, so much to make up for, both of us. That won’t be easy. It’ll be an uphill battle for both of us, a struggle. The biggest one yet. But I never stopped loving you. My love never decreased by one increment, ever. And if you feel even a tenth of that way for me too, still, then… offer’s still open.”

Jeonghan breathed for the first time in months. The air filled his lungs. His mind began to clear. He breathed again, and filled himself so much it stung his chest. The pain brought him to life. For the first time in months, he could feel something again.

“Jeonghan… will you fight with me?”

“ _Minki_.” Jeonghan looked up. “Minki. I’ll love you _forever_ , man. Wherever you disappear to.”

And then the two were standing, holding each other close like they hadn’t been in years. Ren gripped him tightly. “Jeonghan.”

“Minki. My Minki. I’ll fight with you to the end, angel. To the end.”

Ren pulled a wisp of Jeonghan’s hair off his forehead. “…if you need to, you can scream. I’m here.”

Jeonghan buried his beautiful face in Ren’s shoulder, and screamed, until the jubilant happiness of _Minki_ and the deafening grief of _Joshua_ all just faded into silence.

After a while, when he was quiet again, Minki gently stroked Jeonghan’s hair, rocking him slightly. “There. Feel better?”

“Uh…”

Ren smiled kindly, posing the question differently. “…how do you feel, my Jeonghannie?”

Jeonghan snorted once, and a wisp of a smile set in his thin lips. “I’m _starving_.”

 

The snow thawed. The February ice turned into the March rain. And the enemy gave no quarter.

It was the King’s fourth throw into the battlefield. This time from the side. Sneaky. Flanking. Infiltrating a weak spot on the enemy’s defence line, and push through as far as humanly possible. It was his fourth go at battle, but it would be the first that he really came entirely close to being stabbed.

Mingyu and Wonwoo were there to make very sure that it never happened.

On the morning they were to head out, Jihoon walked out of his tent in his helmet and full military gear, without his patches. He looked more like a private than anybody could give him credit for: the only things that gave him away were the black eyeliner and the gold emblem on his helmet.

He was still the King.

But when he got out to where the troops were ready to march, Jihoon scowled at them. Something was wrong. Something was _off_. Wonwoo didn’t see at first either, until Mingyu began to chuckle.

Jihoon stood there as a Corporal was hailed to show himself. Seungcheol marched up to the front line, got down on one knee, and presented Jihoon was a little stub of a black pencil. Jihoon was holding it in his hands before he realized it was eyeliner.

“We decided it wasn’t fair to go into battle knowing you’d be the target.” The Corporal looked up, eyes like a raccoon’s.

Jihoon gulped. Now with eyeliner on, in battle, he’d be just as much a target as the next person. Seungcheol. _His_ Seungcheol.

“It’s against regulations,” the King declared loudly. “…if I get out of this one alive, men, I _might_ not put you all up for report.”

Then Jihoon cracked a smile. It wasn’t a happy one – more of a sarcastic grin on one side of his face that he showed his troops to cheer up their spirits.

The men saluted, a little cheered up.

Mingyu took the stub, lining his own eyes darkly before handing it to Wonwoo.

“It’s unsanitary, too,” Jihoon muttered under his breath.

“Oh shut up, I might die anyway.”

“You? Knowing that Soonyoung’s going home today? You’ll be indestructible.” Jihoon checked his watch one last time before taking it off. “Thank you Corporal. Return to your station. Men, it’s eight P.M. Time we were moving out.” The King surveyed the five-hundred men he’d been given. “…let’s make everybody back home proud.”

 

“Weakest point my ass!” Jihoon growled as he set his weapon propped up on his knee.

Copters with snipers were rampant in the sky, they were being shelled from everywhere it seemed. The ground was shaking and the air was so loud it could pop an eardrum. Between grenades, shells, plate mines, oil pits filled with flame and opposing enemy fire that never let up for even a single moment, the place was a literal hell on earth.

“When I get back to HQ I’m gonna fight somebody!”

“Fight _them_!” Mingyu growled, taking out as many shifting shadows in the darkness as he could.

Jihoon’s men were spread too thin. They were supposed to sneak into the enemy’s camp, but they’d seen the troops coming for miles. The place was a fortress. The men were spread and spent. Jihoon had already trampled over five dead bodies to get to his current position, and he couldn’t be sure how many of them were his men.

“Keep going!” Jihoon gripped his radio. “Keep hitting the towers! The towers, _take the towers!_ ”

It was strange, how his body was filled with adrenaline. He wasn’t really thinking about every explosion that dropped a few feet away, and he wasn’t really thinking about the thudding of bodies hitting the ground or boots splashing in muddy pools. He was just thinking _keep going. Keep going. Keep going._

He began to advance, a guard on either side, when the next body he stumbled over made a sickening sound.

In the darkness, it was hard to see, but the man’s eyes were dark, indicating he had raccooned himself with black eyeliner for his King.

“This one’s ours!”

“Still alive!” Mingyu screamed back. He tried to wave away the smoke.

“…Jihoon?” a harsh pant came out. “Jihoon?”

It took the King a moment to inhale. “ _SEUNGCHEOL?! SEUNGCHEOL!_ ”

In the darkness, the fire and smoke and bombs, there was now only Seungcheol. Only his hand reaching out to grip Jihoon’s, and the strength of his fingers.

“Jihoon!” he panted hard.

“What happened?!” the King screamed back.

“Tried to kick a grenade away,” Seungcheol grunted, trying to right himself. “Need to practice soccer more often.”

“Stay down.” Mingyu was surveying the damage, and glanced up at the King. “He can’t be moved. Not yet.”

Jihoon threw his body on top of Seungcheol’s chest to keep him down. “Seungcheol!” he screamed over the horrendous cacophony of battle. “Seungcheol, you have to stay down!” he screamed at the top of his voice. “Stay, down!”

“Jihoon, I’m not gonna make it!”

“Shut up!” Jihoon screamed back. He could smell the blood now. It was on the hand that touched the side of Seungcheol’s head. “You shut up!” Tears began to flow down the King’s cheeks. “You shut up you! You’re gonna make it!”

“Jihoon!” Seungcheol’s eyes searched for his lover’s in the darkness, and found them. “Jihoon, I’m not gonna make it! You gotta leave me here!”

“I’m not leaving you here! You’re gonna make it!”

Jihoon covered Seungcheol’s head as a shell hit very close; in turn, Wonwoo covered Jihoon. Mingyu simply worked on the leg.

Jihoon sobbed, gripping Seungcheol’s face. “Look at me. Just look at me.”

“It hurts,” Seungcheol whimpered, starting to cry. “It _hurts_ , baby. It hurts.”

“Just look at me. Stay with me. Don’t think about it!”

“It hurts!”

“Look at me!” Jihoon screamed with all his might.

He looked beautiful, like that. His face was covered in dirt and blood and his helmet was long gone, but his face was alive and fierce with emotion with all the stars in the sky lit up behind him, and Seungcheol could feel reality slipping away until there was no sound left but his voice.

“You look at _me_ ,” Jihoon told him. “And I will get you through this, God help me, damn you.”

Seungcheol coughed up a little blood.

Jihoon’s tears became silent next to his voice. “Do you remember, darling? The first day that we met?”

It took the bleeding man, lying in earth and shit, to remember. “Y-you mean – in the c-café?”

“Yeah, you remember?”

Seungcheol just stared at the most beautiful man on earth. He seemed to belong with the stars. He was just that magical, that beautiful.

“Do you remember, Seungcheol?”

“I ordered a Java,” he mumbled, as if remembering it from another lifetime.

“Yeah,” Jihoon coughed, half a sob. “You ordered it slow-drip, to go. With cream.”

“You worked beautifully,” Seungcheol remembered, still crying. Unable to look away. “Your hands were so pretty. I’d never seen coffee made like that.”

“Yeah, baby. Yeah baby, I did that.”

“Lizzy came in,” he remembered.

Jihoon forced a chuckle. He could tell from the way Mingyu was grunting it wasn’t going so well. “Yeah, she did. You remember that? She walked right into you and you threw your coffee all over yourself.”

“It burned. Oh, God, it burns Woozi!”

Jihoon gripped Seungcheol by his collar again. “Look at me!” he screamed. “Look at me! What happened then? Do you remember? What happened then, Seungcheol?!”

“You gave me a shirt!” the bleeding man screamed back. “It was a white shirt!”

“Yeah, baby. That was some day, huh?”

“Yeah.” Seungcheol gripped Jihoon’s collar just as hard. “Some day.”

“Next time I see you in white, you’ll be at the altar in a white tux,” Jihoon told him. Teeth gritted, tears pouring little pathways through the dirt on his face. “With white peonies in your lapel.”

“Sounds beautiful,” Seungcheol whispered.

“And there’ll… there’ll be a live band,” Jihoon told him, panting over him. “A quartet. Some violins. Uh… evening wedding?”

Seungcheol shook his head.

“No, no, you’re right, what was I thinking? Morning ceremony. Of course.” Jihoon choked a little on his own words. Mingyu’s motions were slowing down. “You’ll look beautiful in the morning sunlight, baby. Seungcheol. Just beautiful.” Another shell hit: Jihoon covered Seungcheol’s face, screaming over the deafening sound of war. “And we’re gonna have the first dance! And a five-tiered white cake! Seungkwan can cater!” He began to laugh with hysteria. “And Vernon will do the flowers!”

“He’ll like that,” Seungcheol whispered.

“Yeah, baby. It’s gonna be beautiful when we get married,” Jihoon screamed. He looked down at the man he loved, face almost unrecognizable with emotive pain. “Seungcheol, baby, I love you.”

Seungcheol looked up at Jihoon, with all the stars behind him. “I love you too.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“I’m not gonna make it,” Seungcheol whispered. “You have to get out of here. Get what’s left of the men and just _go_ , Jihoon. Please.”

Mingyu gripped Jihoon’s arm. “There’s nothing more I can do,” he whispered.

“Please, Jihoon!” Seungcheol screamed. “I’m _not gonna make it! You have to go!_ ”

“ _SEUNGCHEOL!_ ”

“ _JUST GO!_ ”

Jihoon bent down to kiss Seungcheol. “…but I love you.”

“I love you too,” Seungcheol whispered. “But it’s time to go.”

Jihoon would have replied, if the entire world hadn’t exploded in fire in front of his eyes before darkness took him.


	33. Stay With Me [Reprise]

It was a beautiful funeral.

Closed casket, of course. What remained of him would not be a pleasant sight to see, even when it was all cleaned up and sewn together with clean clothes.

He was allowed to say his goodbyes in private. At least he had been afforded that. Well, he’d been afforded that before. When they brought his body in and put it on a cold table in a white room. But this was it. The real thing. His funeral.

The room was small – held maybe about fifty people. Light wooden floors. White walls. White ceiling. He felt that it was a horrible color, even for a funeral home. It was too bland. Too porcelain, too plain, too… white.

The chairs matched the light, sandy tone as the floor: they, too, were wooden. Fold-up chairs. All of them organized in little rows. With one aisle down the middle. He moved so slowly, so softly. The room was so quiet.

The casket was an absolutely beautiful piece. The wood was _dark_ – that dark reddish-brown color, and it was absolutely unblemished. He deserved that. An unblemished funeral. An unblemished vessel to sleep in forever.

It was easier that way, you know? To think of him as asleep. Than to think of him as dead.

Death seemed so final. No return. No peace. No _nuthin’_. Just dead. A throwaway word, almost. It held no significance. It was an empty phrase.

But asleep? Yes, he deserved to sleep. After how hard he had worked. He deserved that kind of peace. Rest. Gentility.

His fingers slid over the wood. It really was a pretty casket. It was plain, except around the edges where it was intricately carved and inlaid with gold. He deserved that. He deserved glory at the end. He deserved no less.

He slowly picked up the flag and gently draped it over the coffin. He had died in the service of his country.

It was almost funny, how it had all panned out. With Jeonghan alive again, gripping a childhood sweetheart, he had buoyed up considerably. Taken over the political situation. He’d gotten China on their knees for peace talks in just a few months. War was over. The country could rest easy again.

But not him. He’d never rest easy after this. He might rest, but never easy. Because he wasn’t just missing a sun or a moon or a few stars, he had lost his whole damn sky. And without the sky, it was really hard to see where you’re going.

It was like being blind. No reason, or rhyme, or goal. Nothing to work towards, like there had been before. There was just… nothing.

At first the emptiness had been terrifying. There’s nothing worse than sitting by as the eternal abyss comes and swallows you whole. But he had learned to deal with it. Or, was learning. He should probably go into therapy. The pain of it all was gut-wrenching.

Now the abyss was a nice place to be. There was a hole in his mind where it was dark and damn and cold and worst of all, _alone_ , but it was numb. It was a place he couldn’t _feel_ anything, and if he couldn’t feel, then it couldn’t hurt.

Sometimes, coming out of the darkness was the bravest thing he ever did.

Once he was seated in the front row, other people filed into the small room. It went from a very cold room to a very warm room very quickly.

People were fanning themselves with little white pamphlets. The order of the day. The ceremony, another small ceremony at the grave, and then the wake.

He wasn’t sure whether he could go to the wake. He’d been promised it wouldn’t really be a wake: just a gathering of close friends and family at the café.

But he still wasn’t sure if he could go. It meant leaving the abyss for a few hours, at least.

People shook his hand, rubbed his shoulder, clapped on his back. Somewhere he recognized some of them as people he knew. But his conscious took no notice. He stared back with dead eyes, glazed over, no emotion.

Some nice words were said. He had no idea what they were.

Some men arrived and picked up the coffin, and panic almost went off. They were taking him. His body. Taking him away. Part of his brain controlled it. They were just taking it to the hearse.

He had a limo waiting for him. A big shiny fancy one. He wished he’d never had to sit in it.

The ride to the cemetery didn’t take long. Or maybe it did. He wouldn’t have noticed if he were on a 40-hour flight. He didn’t notice time passing anymore like he used to. Somewhere his head registered darkness in contrast to light, but he never got as far as night and day.

 When he stepped out, there was a long, steady, slow procession to the grave. The casket had already been lowered.

He wondered if he could really do it. If he could stand here and watch people throw dirt on his lover’s casket, bury him until he would never ever be able to reach him again. Could he stand silently and watch it happen without going crazy?

It felt like a water balloon. The kind he used to play with as a kid. They would fill and fill and fill, and stretch and stretch and stretch, until at some point they just burst and the water went everywhere.

He felt a lot like a water balloon.

He was filled up too much and far too empty, at the same time. And he was stretched far, far too thin. Anything could be his breaking point. Absolutely anything. It was just a matter of time before he went loony.

The words said at the grave were beautiful, to be sure. He didn’t hear any of them.

When it was all over, people around him hugged and cried. He just stood there, staring at the dirt.

He stayed for a long time. Until the plot was entirely full of dirt. Until everybody had laid their beautiful, beautiful flowers on it. Then he slowly got down on his knees, pressed a kiss on a single white rose, and laid it on top of all the others.

He turned away and hobbled down the pathway, limping slightly, and leaning on his cane.

Small arms were waiting for him at the gate. He’d been at the plot for at least an hour and it was still cold out. Why he was still here, who knew? But the arms reached out for him anyway.

He felt obligated to say something. “…I’m sad,” he finally whispered.

“I know,” a voice told him gently. “I really do know. I’m sad, too.”

He nodded slightly.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

A future was gone, a life had crumbled away at the seams and his love of all loves was lost, but Soonyoung almost smiled. “I’d like that a lot, Woozi.”

 

The day after the funeral, Jihoon was back at the palace, sorting out all the officials. It warmed him to see Ren and Jeonghan together. He had been too young, back then, to notice anything between Jeonghan and anybody else, so it was a delightful surprise to find them in love.

And they really _were_ in love. It radiated off them like sunlight.

Jihoon would always be thankful, to both of them. It was amazing to imagine that Jeonghan had picked up anything at all from his twin brother: Jeonghan was always so much more interested in fashion and sex and cars than politics. But the memory of his twin and the reality of his lover had spurred something new in him. A wish to keep a legacy alive. So Jeonghan had stepped up to the plate and negotiated a peace that was signed only a day after his great battle.

So, after it all, Jeonghan deserved it. And somewhere, Ren deserved it too.

Jihoon took a deep breath, coming to the end of his speech in front of the Council and the Parliament. “And so, it is with great reverence and joy that I am able to pass the crown to its rightful owner, my brother Jeonghan.”

The room was reasonably quiet – it was no surprise that Jihoon would give the crown back – but for one scream.

“ _NO!”_

Uncle Heechul scuttled out of his seat and onto the great floor where everybody could see him. He was red in the face, glaring. He pointed thick, stubby finger at Jihoon. “I didn’t kill for this!”

Ice settled in the room.

“I didn’t _kill them_ for _this!_ ” he growled.

Suddenly, Jihoon was breathing hard. “What?!”

“You know!” Uncle Heechul pointed his thick finger all around the room. “You all know! I was the first son of my father! _I_ was supposed to succeed! I was going to be _KING!_ But I couldn’t be, why? Because I was an _omega_. My _brother_ became King instead! Because an _omega_ wasn’t _fit_ by _law_!”

“My father repealed that-”

“AHA!” Heechul’s eyes were blown wide, pupils tiny. He swirled back to his nephew dramatically. Like a madman. “But not in time for _me_! And I was happy to suffer in silence. And then _she_ bore _you_ and you had twice the shitty life I had! Don’t you realize I did it _all_ for you?!”

There was a silence.

Uncle Hee looked around the room at the council and parliament members. “It was easy,” he told them, eyes still wide. “I didn’t know I wanted to do it until the King died. And I saw a _chance_ …” Uncle Hee turned to motion with reverence to the small King. “…to give this poor, forsaken little boy everything he deserved. Everything he never had.

“It was easy, you know. Aron was the first. He was real easy. They were nervous. I put belladonna capsules inside anti-acid pills. They took them happily. Took a while for it all to dissolve. To start working. They went down just right. The children had candy with belladonna. So easy. So simple.” Uncle Hee held up his palms dramatically, staring around the room every time like it was the first time he saw it. “They went down flawlessly. I couldn’t believe my luck. Then _she_ found me.”

Uncle Hee huddled over himself for a moment, mumbling before he stood straight with a flare of the arms. “Nana!” he shouted in the great hall, letting it echo off the walls. “She found me! Scheming! Plotting, she called it! I had no choice! I had no choice, I had to get rid of her! I had to get _rid_ of the… evidence. Nobody could know. Nobody. Nobody…”

“I tried to poison Joshua. It’s so subtle. I didn’t like the commotion it made when I got rid of _her_. But he was resistant! So resistant! When I met him in the gardens, I had the rosary peas in amongst other berries. He took them from me gladly. So youthful. So naïve. Unsuspecting. Somebody like that shouldn’t be _King_. Haha!” Uncle Hee began to laugh hysterically in a squeaky pitch for a few moments before sobering instantly, bent over. “You all thought I was hurt! Upset! I’m a great actor, am I not? Poor, upset Uncle Hee! Haha!”

Uncle Hee didn’t just hunch over, his knees were bent too: the way he circled the floor was like a vulture waiting for its next meal. “I thought I’d take _him_ too, the pretty one. But he turned out not to be such a problem. A weak-headed fool like his twin. Couldn’t even get off the bed to take a piss. Hah! What was I scared of?”

“Minhyun!” Uncle Hee stretched, similarly to a pregnant woman. “What a bumbling little cutie. I would have regretted killing him, if I’d had to. But nobody was going to make him King. Even _they_ weren’t so stupid.” He sighed. “And then there was Hayi.

“I started to realize that all these deaths would be put on Jihoon’s shoulders if it stopped after him. So I had to have a scapegoat. I started making it more fancy. Big bombs. I contracted them out. But the idiots! Couldn’t get it right. Nobody was home!

“Oh, not that I think she would have usurped the throne. But she was an obstruction. She would have brought _peace_ and without her we had _war_ and it was war I needed!” The elderly little man skipped from one end to the hall happily, laughing hysterically. The sight was ghastly to behold. “If I had a war, then I could paint Jihoon as a war hero. A mighty omega. Proof omegas were good. So she… had to go! Bye-bye, tinkerbell, and your little dog too! Hahahahaha!”

Jeonghan put a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder, keeping him seated. _Wait_.

“Jun! So easy. So gullible! I used a proper scapegoat for him, but the _idiot_ was so frightened, so scared!” Uncle Hee dragged himself over the tiled floor on his knees. “He couldn’t even stab a King right! Dumb infant. I had to poison himself! Root of castor, did you know?”

Uncle Hee dragged himself over to stare up at Jihoon from on his knees, hands clasped together, held out up to the boy on the balcony. “Did you know? The same tree we make castor oil from? Most of it is poisonous! Haha! I injected him with extract from the roots. Half an hour later he was _gone_ and my _boy_ was KING! KING, HAHAHA!” The elderly man cackled.

When he was done cackling the room went deadly silent. Uncle Hee bent over himself again, silently this time, pacing this way and that before pointing up to the royal family. “But I’ll be – hahaha! I’ll be mad before I let you give _him_ _your_ crown! I got you that crown! For you! For the _omega!_ It’s not for alphas. They’re not – HAHA – they’re no use in it! You! You, my boy! My favorite! My little prince! My King! My omega! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!”

Jihoon stared emotionlessly at the crazy old man below him.

Uncle Hee’s exuberant face went a little sad. Theatrically sad. “Oh.” His arms came down slightly. “You don’t like my present? No! No, a bad present, a bad present. We must – we must!”

“Guard.”

Jihoon’s voice stilled the frightened old man who stood there, looking over a hunched back at the King.

“…take away this mad man.”

“Mad?!” Uncle Hee screamed. “Mad, I’m not mad! You’re mad!” He was gripped by two guards and towed towards the door. “You’re mad if you think you’re giving my crown away! I’ll never give your crown away! HAHAHAHAHAAAA!”

The door closed with a deafening thud.


	34. Epilogue: Free At Last

Freedom is pricey. All Freedom.

The freedom of a country must be won in war. The freedom of a people must be won in love. The freedom of a right must be won in politics. None of these come at an easy price.

The price to pay is always the hardest part. How do you weight the significance of one human life against another? Who gets to say it’s fair? Who gets to play God with _us_? The price is always high. Too high. The price is always high.

I paid the price for my freedom.

Aron.

Nana.

Joshua.

Hayi.

Jun.

Wonwoo.

26.802 soldiers.

I paid the price for my freedom. The freedom to stand in a café and roast beans for the rest of my life. If I could do it all again, I would have done it differently. I don’t think anybody’s freedom should ask so many lives. Not even mine.

But I know that they would all want me to take the freedom their lives bought me. So I’m taking it with both hands. Because in the end, my goal is still the same.

It’s not _just_ my freedom I’m fighting for.

The bell rings and I look up with my customer’s smile. “Hello! Welcome to Wonwoo’s Place. What can I get you today?”

I can’t really see. When you get half a grenade in your face, it’s a miracle to still be alive. Wonwoo wasn’t that lucky. I can see light, and vague colors, that’s about it. But I can still smell the difference between a Java and a Brazilian.

“Hello, cutie.”

I grin: broadly. My mouth already hurts from the smile. “Seungcheol,” I sigh.

I can tell he’s grinning too. He’s still in the doorway. “I brought you a present.”

“A present? For me?” And then I hear it. The patter of light feet.

I can’t squat before they reach me. I grip them both to me. “Babies,” I whisper. “My babies.”

Shannon lets go pretty quickly. “I died my hair back to brown again,” she tells me in her bubbly little voice. I’ve missed it so much. “…I decided I like it better.”

I just grip my baby brother hard in my arms, but smile at her. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Japanese prince I know?”

Her silence says everything, and I laugh.

Dino is tugging on my shirt. “Jihoonie?”

“Yes, Dino? Dino, my everything.” I hold him in both my arms. “What is it?”

“…did you know? In Japan, they are working on a life-long _cure_ for haemophilia?” I can hear the hope in his voice, feel his fingers trembling. “They’ll begin human trial in a few months.”

I look up at the light, even though I know I can’t see him. “Is it true?” I whisper.

“As far as I know,” Seungcheol says.

I just grip my baby brother again.

Because who imagined that in all this pain and sorrow, his freedom could be bought too?

All freedom comes at a price. I paid my due to the fates. Now I’m going to enjoy my freedom. With what is left of my rag-tag family, my husband, and my gang at my re-named Triple C to honor my best friend.

All freedom comes at a price.

I’m free at last.

 

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking by me during this fic, and I do sorta kinda apologize for my George R. R. Martin Syndrome. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fanfiction please comment, subscribe, and upvote! It means a lot to me. And be on the look-out for another fanfiction!
> 
> If you want all the ins and outs and backstage drama you can follow me on twitter @17_maker.


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